Choices, Secrets, and Lies
by Look-for-the-miracles
Summary: When Ava went exploring, she didn't expect to find something that would shoot her across worlds to a world so similar, and yet different. She didn't expect to be kidnapped by a government agent on her first day in America. She didn't expect to fight alongside the movie heroes she'd grown up watching. But she definitely didn't expect to part of so many choices, secrets, and lies.
1. Relocation

_**Relocation**_

* * *

I shouldn't have done that.

No, I _really_ shouldn't have. That's the singular thought bouncing through my brain as I smash into the glittering lake below. With a crash, I hit the water, and resurface, spluttering and retching. My chest heaves, and I drag my heavy limbs over to the side of the lake. _Well, isn't this just bloody brilliant._

Drenched and freezing, I lie down in the grass, damp with the morning's dew. I give a weak laugh. It was stupid really; the way that I ended up crashing into a lake in who-knows-where. Curiosity killed the cat you could say, or rather, it almost drowned the human. Things aren't going my way, but they never really did. Still, this is a first.

Rubbing my hands together, I concentrate on summoning a small flame in my palm. But my wet skin stays cold, and unyielding to the sparks I need. With a huff, I curl up, hugging my sides for warmth. This is going to be a long day …

Or is it night? It was certainly about midnight when I made my mistake. But the sun is peeking over the horizon here; a gentle warmth that seeps gladly into my frozen form. I turn my face east, absorbing what I can from the emerging sun. It's blessed warmth; a little something that stays the same no matter where you are.

As a matter of fact, where am I?

Last, I can remember, I wasn't anywhere near a park with a massive lake. Or a park at all. I was snooping around in a bunker, something I shouldn't have been doing, and messed around with some stone-thing. And now I'm here; wherever here _is_.

I'd ask someone, but anyone I see is jogging, or engaged on a phone. I don't know about you, but I'm not really up for chasing a stranger around and asking for help. That only leaves helping myself. Oh, what an abundance of options I have. _You've made a brilliant decision this time, Ava, really corking._ Looks like I'm getting myself out of my own mess for once.

Shifting forwards, I sit up, legs crossed. I've got one other trick for getting rid of this water. Only problem is, I'm not very good at it. But my mum can do it all the time; I should be able to handle it, right? It's rocket science, it's just a little bit of water-bending. Just element manipulation. Everyone can do that; some better than others, mind you, but everyone has an element they can manipulate. Some can manipulate the ones in the sub-group, and about a hundred per generation per country can manipulate them all. I fall into the last bracket, but I just can't crack this move.

Holding my palms out, I envision the water forming bubbles I can move. Water droplets bubble together over my clothing, and I push my hands forwards and backwards, collecting them into a large sphere. The sphere collects over my head, and I bit my lip in concentration. Now comes the tricky bit. Pushing my hands upwards, I try to release the water to the sky. The bubble pops, showering me with water. I scream in frustration. _Great, just great._

During the past few moments, my watery act has gained me a few funny looks. I can't understand why though; don't people do that sort of thing on a daily basis? Or maybe they've never seen someone who could fail so pathetically at such as easy move. That must be it. There wouldn't be any other reason, would there?

Leaning back into the grass, I soak up the sun. The warmth is so soothing that I can feel my eyelids fluttering shut, and my vision darkening. I close my eyes, and slip into a world of dreams.

* * *

A few hours have passed since I fell asleep. The sun is now fully up, blinding me as I stretch groggily into a sitting position. Someone in a pair of neon green shorts is pointing at me, whispering to some guy in a suit. I stare back, narrowing my eyes. Don't people know it's rude to point?

I'm about to stand up, and storm over to them, when Suit moves my way. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, and there's a slight bulge in his pocket shaped like a gun. Well, shoot. This is not how I imagined my morning going. Or night, whatever it is.

He's in front of me now, looking down, and I have to squint in the bright sunlight to see him.

"Miss, I am a government agent, and we've had reports of some, ah, unusual activity going on, specifically around you. You're going to come in with us, and there'll be no problems." He raises one eyebrow, and looks at my stunned expression.

"C-come with y-you?" I stutter, trying to take in his words. "Where?"

"That's not for you to know. Now, if you please – "Suit gestures towards a car, waiting only a few yards away, "we must be going."

Standing, I shake my head, hands extended before me, backing away from him. "N-no." My voice wavers, and I swallow. "No, thank you. I'll just stay here instead." I try to instil confidence in my voice, but it comes out weak and shaking.

"Miss – there is no option here. You _will_ come with us." His hand goes to his pocket, and I take a step back. "We wouldn't want any trouble to be caused now, would we?"

"If it gets me away from you, then yeah. Yeah, I would."

Suit sighs, and pulls out his gun. Which out not to be a gun, but rather a stunner. My mouth opens, ready to shout for help but I can't get the words out. He's shot me, and I hit the ground twitching. He shoots again, and my vision turns black. _Oh, shit._

* * *

The next time I wake up, it's not to a glorious wave of sunshine. Oh no, this time it's to white cells, a narrow bed, and bars. I'm in a cell; a fricking prison cell! What for?! I did nothing wrong. Do people here have a problem with public element manipulation, or something?

If only I hadn't gone investigating. I might be safe then.

On the plus side, my light brown hair has dried, with wavy locks streaming down my back. But there's something missing. My hand flys to my neck, finding my necklace gone. They've taken it! My beautiful, Tolkien necklace. The only piece of jewellery I would wear regularly. A last gift from my best friend before she was moved to the next compound. The last memory I have of her, before she was taken away. Before I lost her forever.

My hands clench into fists. Hot tears drip down my cheeks, blotting on the white coverlet. I take a shaky breath, curling up against the cold wall. The metal bars shake as I stare at them; shifting and quaking in their places. I throw one hand out, and the bars bend. Another hand out, and they pull from their sockets, flying against the wall. With several loud clangs, they smash into the wall, leaving cylindrical dents behind. I leave them on the floor.

Within a few minutes, half a dozen people in black, combat outfits, all armed with at least one gun, come rushing round to the door. I stare at them with blank eyes. They seem surprised by the missing bars. I hug my sides, resting my forehead on my knees. The strangers mutter to each other, keeping their guns raised. I wonder if they know why I'm here. Or are they kept in the dark too?

* * *

I sit there, against the wall, or what must be several hours, until someone comes and fetches me. They handcuff my arms behind my back, warning me not to try anything. I don't reply. If this place stuns people and locks them up in cells for a bit of simple (although failed) water-bending, then what do they next in store? What will they do after I pulled the metal bars from my cell? What would they do if I used all my abilities?

We walk in silence for half an hour, before we reach the appropriate room. There's a table, three chairs, and a mirror along one side. I've seen enough movie interrogations to assume that's a two-way mirror. They can see me, but I can't see them.

They tie me to the single chair, facing towards the door way. I tap my foot against the table leg, hoping to get this over with. I don't know what they hope to learn. I'm just an ordinary person, with a plain, ordinary life. Are they trying to learn about the mundane? But surely, they could ask people, instead of kidnapping them. Do these people have no manners?

Soon, a pair of suit-wearing men enter the room, both with neutral expressions. They sit in the two seats opposite, and set up a recorder. Neither show any emotion; this must be business as usual for them. What kind of place is this? Kidnapping, interrogations, and cells. This certainly isn't any regular workplace. Cells would be commonplace at a police station, but this doesn't look like any regular police station. Not that I've been in any … Anyways, I should stop rambling, right?

The first man, with a blue tie, shuffles his papers, and talks first. "My colleague and I will be asking a few questions. Every response will be recorded. You must answer every question." He lays the papers down on the desk, and clasps his hands together on the table. "We'll start easy. What is name, age, and country of origin?"

I shuffle forwards, my tied arms hindering my movement. "W-what benefits do I get for answering? And how will you know if I lie?"

The second guy raised an eyebrow. "Your benefit is that we won't send in Agent Romanoff. We will know if you lie, don't worry about that." He gives a brief smirk. "Now then, answer the question."

" _Fine_!" I spit out, clenching my jaw. "Fine, I'll answer your stupid, bloody questions! My name's Ava Talbot; I'm 20 years old; my country of origin is England. Happy now?!"

"Thank you, Ms Talbot. Now, why were you in Central Park this morning?"

I frown. "That was – I was in Central Park?"

"Yes …" He sounds a little confused.

Shrugging my shoulders, I slouch back in my chair. "I have no idea how I got there, let alone where I was. There isn't really a why."

"Alright. How did you attain your powers?"

"My what?"

"Ms Talbot, this morning you were spotted by several civilians manipulating water. This was reported to the police force, and, in turn, this organisation found you based on that information. Now, we shall not ask you again – "Suit guy number two leans forward, tapping his fingers on the table top, "how did you attain your powers?"

"Uh …" I really have no idea what he means. Everyone gets them the way. What kind of people are they? "The same as you guys? Like, everyone gets them? You get born with the ability to manipulate one or all of the elements."

Blue tie shakes his head. "No. Not everyone has abilities, or enhancements. It may be different from where you are from, but here, the vast majority of people don't have abilities of any kind."

I nearly topple from my chair in surprise. "What do you mean? E-everyone has them."

"They don't. You seem a little confused by this, we can resume this – "Blue tie starts talking, but the door swings open. A young woman with blonde hair steps inside, whispering to Blue tie. He gasps, and pales slightly. "Well, Ms Talbot, it appears that there are absolutely no records of you, in this country, or across the world. Care to explain?"

"N-no records?!" My voice rises, and my heart rate increases. I bit my lip, feeling the panic rise up within me. "How are there no records of my existence? I have a job; I have medical information; I have a driving license." I struggle forward in my chair. "How can you tell me there's no records?"

"There is no data. Either you have deleted it all, or you aren't from here."

"'Not from here', huh?" I raise my eyebrows at them. "Seriously, do I look like an alien to you?" I laugh a little. "I. Am. A. Human. Eh, you get that, right? I'm from Earth, not space, not another realm or whatever."

"We can't rule anything out, Ms Talbot. We have had visitors from other realms."

"Wait – "I shake my head at them. "You have really had an alien come visit? Why wasn't it on the news?"

Guy number two frowns at me. "It was. You heard of Thor, and Loki? They're from another realm."

"Oh." My eyes widen. "You mean – those guys, they were in the Thor movies, and those Avengers' movies. You know they're only alien-god-people in the movie world, right?"

"Movies? There are no movies about the Avengers." Now it's him that looks confused. "Ms Talbot, are you sure you are from _here_?" Hmm … I think I just detected a hint of concern in that voice. I didn't know mysterious guys in suits were _allowed_ to show emotion. Maybe he's a trainee.

"Uh … yeah there are. There's like at least seven, I think. Haven't you ever watched them? I mean, I know you might think they're for kids, but I enjoyed them. Besides, you can't be that old, can you? Iron Man came out in 2008, so that's 9 years ago. You must've at least watched that one. I'd've gone, but being only nine, I wasn't exactly allowed in, you see? So, I had to – "

Blue tie slams a fist on the table. "Just – please, just stop talking." He runs a rand through his dark blond hair. "Just stop. We understand. This interrogation is over. Take her back to her room."

I snort. "My _room_? You mean my _cell_ , don't you?" I narrow my eyes at them as they leave. After a few moments, half-a-dozen guards enter the room, untying me, and dragging me to my feet. With my hands bound, there's not much I can do against them.

This isn't exactly how imagined my first trip to America would go.

* * *

 **Welcome to my new, and improved fanfiction. It's the same OC (Ava), but with some tweaks and improvements. Hope you've enjoyed the first chapter.**

 **I own nothing but my OC.**


	2. Fighting for Freedom

**Fighting for Freedom**

* * *

It's day two of my adventure to America. Or rather, it's day two of my imprisonment in some unknown location. I haven't been taken anyway all morning, but that's alright. Albeit boring though. Nothing better than sitting in a plain cell for several hours all alone. _Not_.

But my stomach is telling me it's lunch time, and no food has arrived yet. I would climb out the hole I made yesterday, but they replaced the gap with a plastic screen. So, there won't be any more of my angry metal bending to take _that_ away. I mean, I could melt it with fire-bending. That is if I want to send hours standing with my hand against it, which I don't. But does anyone?

Shuffling to my feet, I move over to the door, knocking on the plastic window. "Hey! You guys gonna feed me, or what?"

Nobody comes, and nobody replies. I bang on the door a dozen more times, slamming my fists into wood. My knuckles redden; tiny pinpricks of blood tumble between the ridges of my knuckles, staining the white door red. I let out a scream, and pummel the door. But nobody comes. They let me shriek and batter my hands red.

Defeated and bleeding, I lean against the door. I'm starving, I'm tired, and I'm bored. I want something to eat, something to do, somewhere to go. I want anything but here. There's nothing I can do, though, nothing at all. I'm a prisoner here; trapped like canary in a cage. Captivity doesn't suit me.

I don't know how long I sit there, before it occurs to me – _wood_! The door is made of _wood_. That's much easier to burn than plastic. The trick is doing it without people knowing, and getting the fire hot enough to burn it quickly. _Think, Ava, think!_

There has to be CCTV cameras in here. They have to watching my every move. It's a secret 'government' organisation, of course they're watching. Do I find the camera, or just do it? They'll know anyways; when they see the scorched remains, and burn streaks, they'll know it was me. _Learn from that._

Rubbing my hands together, I take a deep breathe, concentrating on my flames. Sparks coat my fingertips, and a small flame appears in both palms. Focusing on the flames, I build them higher, stoking them with my anger. Turning to the door, I slam both hands into the wood. The door fires up quickly, smoking hot. Slowly but surely, my hands burn through to the other side. The wood flickers, and soon, a hole big enough for me to crawl through appears. I wiggle through, collapsing on the tiles outside.

My clothes are covered in soot and ashes. But there's no time for that now; I've got to get out. Letting my flames die from my hands, I sprint up the corridor, hoping to find an exit. Anyone who sees me jumps back in alarm, and runs off somewhere. So far, so good. No trouble yet, but that's sure to change.

I've been running for a good ten minutes, but still no exit in sight. It's not like there's going to be a big arrow saying _'_ _exit for escapees here!'._ I can hope though, right? But I'm quickly running out of options. I can't keep running forever, and I'm going to run into someone who fights back sooner or later. I could be running in circles for all I know. I have to get out.

The next corner I turn, I run slap-bang into a young woman's back. She turns around, red tendrils coating her finger tips. She looks at the soot coating me, and the cautious look in my eyes. Her eye light up with realisation, and she shouts into an ear piece:

"I have found the missing civilian. She is near the training area." Her voice is accented strangely; I can't decide where it's from. Someone must reply, as she nods slightly, a look of determination coating her face.

I take a step backwards. She raises her hands, a ball of buzzing red energy between them. I cast around for options, trying to come up with a solution. She throws the ball at me, and I duck. The energy hisses over my head. _Oh, shit. I'm in trouble now._

Flaming my own hands up, I back away. Red doesn't back down, and slams a blast of energy into my side. I cry out in pain, feeling the sting of her power. My fiery palms flicker and die. I turn and run, pushing through the nearest set of doors.

Once inside, I notice I'm in a gym, complete with swimming pool. _Brilliant – water!_ I rush towards the pool as Red enters, with her jaw set. Sticking my hands over the water, I pull up a chunk, and form a ring around myself. Taking up a stance, I face my opponent. Red fires a blast at me, and I raise my hands up. The water forms a shield in front of me, absorbing the blast. I strike back, flinging out an arm to cover her feet in water. It freezes into ice, sticking her to the ground. But she doesn't give up. Red fires another blast at me. It lifts me into the air. With a flick of her wrist, I'm flung into the pool.

I resurface, spitting water from my lungs. Swimming over to the side, I clamber out. But Red has freed herself since then. She looks angry, but so am I. I didn't ask for any of this, and I just want to leave. I'm not asking for the world.

My opponent forms a stance, ready to strike. I mirror her, raising up my watery ring once more. But I don't notice the other woman moving in from another door. I don't notice her lift a stun gun. I don't notice her take aim. But I do notice the sting, as the electricity course through me.

"I didn't see that coming." I have time for a few words, before darkness coats my vision. The world turns black, and I am gone again.

* * *

When I awake this time, I'm tied to a chair once more. But instead that interrogation room, I'm in what looks more like a conference room. There's a large, wooden table in the centre of the room; windows overlooking an expanse of grass; and most of the chairs are filled with people. People who don't look too pleased. At all.

I gulp, feeling the weight of their gaze. Almost everyone is a stranger, and yet vaguely familiar. I can't place them, but I feel like I _know_ them from somewhere. But how? How could I possibly know them? This is my first trip to America for Pete's sake. It's going to bug me now; if I don't figure it out, it's going to annoy me so much.

A blond guy at the head of the table speaks first. "So, you have been here for less than two whole days, and you already try to escape. Why?"

"Um … "I wiggle in my bonds. "I was, uh, kidnapped? I haven't been feed yet? I just wanted out?" I raise an eyebrow at the group. "Is there any wonder why? You can't just kidnap people, and not even before to feed them." As if to emphasise the point, my stomach gives a loud rumble. I look down to my torso, and then back up to them as if to say ' _see what I mean?'_.

"We can, especially if they exhibit a threat to the public." A red-headed woman speaks next; a slight curl of disgust flickers over her face. "You are such a possible threat. Enhanced, or super-powered individuals, such as yourself, don't usually show their powers publicly without a reason."

"Ok … "Confusion clouds my face, "but why does that apply to me? Where _I_ come from, everyone can control at least one element. It's not my fault nobody told me it was different here." I would cross my arms, but the handcuffs are kind of a hindrance to that.

"And _where_ are you from?" A hint of a condescending tone enters her voice.

"England. Like I said in that stupid interrogation. Or didn't you guys listen to that?"

"We did. You might have been a terrible liar, and changed your answer. It's always best to check." Oh, now the red-head is sounding smug. Ugh! I want out of here.

"Well, that's just so darn clever of you. Am I going back to my cell now?" There's a gasp from a few members of the group. What's their deal? Don't they like sarcasm here? Or does red hair here have a problem with it?

The blond from the start speaks up again. "That's enough. You're here to answer our questions, and that'll go on as long as it needs to."

"Have fun with that. Maybe I just won't talk."

"Maybe we'll just make you." The red-head gives a sly grin. "Besides, we don't need you to. Not with our Scarlet Witch." She points to the girl with the red energy from earlier.

"S-scarlet W-witch?!" I ask, voice quivering.

"Yes. What's the problem with that?"

"I just – she's not – "I struggle to find the right words, "she's a movie character. She isn't real."

"I am real. I would know." The girl – Scarlet Witch – speaks up, her voice slightly rough sounding. "I am her."

"No." I shake my head, and set my jaw. "You can't be. That would make you guys the – "

"The Avengers, yes." Scarlet Witch nods. "Now you see why it is our business in you."

"I-I-I … But you can't … It … It's n-not possible." I stutter, looking at each face in turn. "N-no. You are a movie, and this is some fucked-up dream. I'll wake up, and I'll be home."

"It is no dream. This is real."

"Nope." I say, popping the 'p'. "No, no, it isn't. That's exactly what someone would say to convince me it's a dream!" I wiggle around in my bonds, shuffling the chair closer. "I'm gonna wake up, and I'll be safe at home. None of this will have happened and I'll be ok. It'll normal, and safe, and not movie world. And everyone will have their powers, and I won't have been kidnapped and – "I pause to breathe; my chest heaves and I cough.

Scarlet Witch flicks a hand at me, and red tendrils hit my forehead. The conference room shifts and disappears. A lake appears, with a sandy beach, and a creeping sunrise. On that beach stands the Witch. I start towards her, my green eyes flashing.

"What did you do?! What is this?!" I yell at her, marching straight up to her face.

She takes a step back, but stands tall. "We are in a dreamscape, caused by your mind. This is somewhere familiar, yes?"

"I – yeah, it is." My voice falters as I take in my surroundings.

Only a few paces north is a track, leading to the compound gate. Inside the compound are many buildings, all part of the school. There is a town nearby, but we don't visit often. We don't want people to know about us, and exploit us. By 'us' I mean the ones who can control all four elements. People often want to control us; to use us for our extra abilities. So, our parents send us to the Elemental Powers School (E.P.S), a school that will train us and keep us safe. If someone makes a move a student, or figures out what they are, they are relocated. That happened to my best friend – Melanie Holme. I shiver, despite the warmth.

"Are you – alright?" My companion steps closer, concern etched over her face.

I nod. "Sorry. I just got caught up in memories, you know?" I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. "So, why are we here?"

"Oh." She looks a little taken back. "I thought you could do with some explanations. My name is Wanda Maximoff, or Scarlet Witch." I don't reply, so she keeps going. "I'm part of the new Avengers. We formed after U.L.T.R.O.N, but we're still training to be a team." Wanda pauses, looking uncertain. "This is the base; where we are now, physically."

"Ok. But – "I rub my temples slowly, "it's a lot to take in, and – how do I know you're telling the truth? You could be anyone, masquerading as someone else."

"We're not – trust me." She steps forward; her voice is level and confident. "We're the Avengers, you're the mystery factor here."

I lower my gaze, nibbling at a finger nail. "I didn't ask to come here. I don't how, and I don't know why. I just want to go home. Failing that, I want to start a new life here, without being locked in a cell."

Wanda looks stricken, but her expression hardens. "I have been in many cells. You can't blame us for being cautious. We don't know what you can do."

"Neither do I." I give a bitter laugh, gesturing to my surroundings. "Do you? Does anyone before they're put to the test?"

"I don't know." She flashes a quick glimpse of teeth. "But I do know that you are a risk. Ready to go back now?"

I nod my head, shifting on my feet. She waves a wrist, and we return to the physical world with a jolt. I bolt upright, tipping my chair backwards, and smacking into the floor. "Shoot. Can, um, someone help me up?" My cheeks flame, and I look away from the Avengers' faces. _Yay, embarrassment strikes again._

Waving a hand, Wanda sets the chair up right with a few bursts of red energy. I smile at her in thanks. Maybe I'll have one ally here. At least she doesn't seem as standoffish as the rest of them. The others are taking quietly, shooting each other glances, and making vague gestures. They must come to an agreement somehow, as they sit back, looking more relaxed.

The blond at the head of the table – if these are the Avengers, that must be Captain America – stands up to address us. "We'll be training this one, to make sure her powers don't go out of control, and she doesn't cause a threat to the world's security." He turns to me. "If you cause any problems, and if you go rogue we will hunt you down. We won't risk the world for one person." The Captain faces the whole group again. "We'll move her into the Avengers' quarters, so we can keep an eye on her."

I shake my head at that statement. "Nope. No thanks, I'll stick with the cell."

"Why would you prefer a cell over an actual room?"

"Because – "I arch my eyebrows, "why would I want to spend time with the people who put me in a cell in the first place, huh? Riddle me that." I glare around at them.

My gaze hits that of the red-head's and I suddenly realise who she is. It's Black Widow. I talked back to Natasha freaking Romanoff. I am so dead. She's gonna kill me. I can't believe I was rude to her _. To Black Widow!_

She catches me staring, and tilts her head at me. "What is it?"

"Oh …" _Oh god, I need help._ "I-I just, um, r-realised who you are." My voice shakes, and I drop my gaze to the flower. "P-p-please don't k-kill me! I didn't know – you're Black Widow!"

To my surprise, several people, including Widow, laugh at me. I look up at them, startled. "What?!" I demand, voice quivering still.

"I'm not going to kill you." Widow laughs a little at my terrified expression. "But don't talk that to me again."

Shaking and worried, I nod my head gratefully. Oh, thank my lucky stars, I'm saved! Still, I'd better walk nicely around her from now on. I bet she can hold a grudge for years, and strike back with the most horrible revenge.

"Anyways, it's not a question of not moving in." The Captain adds. "You'll move in this afternoon. But until then you'll stay under supervision in the training department." He nods to the guards. "Take her there, but untie her first."

The guards move forwards, cutting my bonds with a pair of wicked looking knives. I shake my arms out, stretching my aching limbs. My feet have cramped up; I've got pins and needles. Struggling to my feet, I try not to wince as I walk away. Needless to say, I don't succeed.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading guys! Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

 **My exams are over! Yay! So I've loads of free time for writing now.**

 **I own nothing but my OC.**

 **Reviews are wonderful gifts for lovely readers.**


	3. Making friends

**Making Friends**

* * *

So out of the frying into the fire as my old man would say; out of the cell, and into the watchful quarters of the Avengers. I'm not so sure if I'm pleased with that arrangement. True, I'll have more freedom of movement, and I can get food whenever want, but that doesn't necessarily outweigh the cons. I knew there was a camera or two in cell, but now there's at least two _people_ watching me at all times. Cameras are impersonal, and don't look at you is disapproval when you do something wrong. _Ahem, Captain America._

But for now, I'm in the training room, watching all the recruits spar and practice. It's pretty boring, especially as I can't really join in. Not that I'm not knocking people behaving like assholes over with blasts of wind; not at all. It's the little things.

I've got two guards with me, both in black combat uniforms. They'll both be carrying a whole array of weapons no doubt. I've no idea how they manage to fit so much in so little space. Practice, I suppose.

It'd be nice for someone to come in and actually talk to me, but no, I have to sit here in silence. Well, not silence exactly; the guards just aren't very talkative. I wish they would be. While I'm not exactly outgoing, I prefer being able to talk over sitting in silence with nothing to do. I'm not even in the right mood to daydream, which I usually would in this situation. Not that I want you to tell anyone about that. _Keep the secret for me._

About an hour later, a man enters the room. He moves to sit beside me, wearing a t-shirt that shows off his dark, muscular arms. I nod to acknowledge his presence, then scoot along the bench a little. But he turns to face me; his brown eyes meet my green, and he smiles.

Sticking out a hand to shake, he attempts to break the ice. "Name's Sam Wilson, aka – "

I interrupt him, sitting up with a gasp. "The Falcon!" He smiles even wider at that. "I love the wings on your suit – I've always wondered how they work, and if they act anything like real birds' wings. They're amazing, and you seem pretty wicked too, Mr Wilson." I gush at him, unable to keep myself quiet. Falcon has always been one of my favourite superheroes.

He seems quite chuffed with my enthusiasm. "Thanks, Miss – "

"Talbot. Ava Talbot. Nice to meet you." I reach out to shake his hand.

"Nice to meet you too, Miss Talbot."

I shake my head. "Ava is fine."

"Well then, it's Sam. Mr Wilson makes me sound old."

"Well, "I say, laughing. "You are older than me."

"Oh yeah?" Sam raises an eyebrow. "When's your birthday?"

"21st of June 1997"

"So, you're only 18 then?"

"What?!" I look at him, eyes wide in surprise. "Nu-uh. I'm 20."

"You can't be." Sam looks just as confused as I feel. "It's 2015, right? You'd have to be born 1995 to be 20 now."

"2015? No, it's 2017" I shake my head at him, lost for words.

"Ava, could you have been transported back in time? Is that why the world seems a little different to you?"

I ponder his words carefully. "I guess so. But – the world wouldn't change so much in just two years. Besides, if I was transported back in time, wouldn't I still be in the same location?"

"Maybe …" He muses, eyebrows pulled together in a frown. "I'm not a science genius like Tony Stark, or Bruce Banner. I don't know this stuff. If you'd be teleported through space too, would that change your location?"

"That's a good point, Mr not-a-science-genius. But the world still wouldn't have changed so drastically in two years. Anyways, it's always been the same throughout my life for me. So, it can't just be time travel."

"Alright. So … alternate universe then? Could that be what it is?" Sam gestures to me. "You did say that the Avengers were a bunch of movies where you came from, and you originally thought it was impossible for us to be real."

I bolt upright, thoughts bubbling through my brain. An alternate universe? That would certainly explain a lot. Well, it'd probably explain all the questions on why they have different worlds, and why the Avengers were still present in both worlds, albeit in different formats. It also explains why I really shouldn't have touched that stone; it doesn't explain why it was there.

"Now, that's genius thinking!" I clap my hands together, wiggling in place excitedly. "Do we tell the science bros then?"

"Science bros?" Sam chuckles slightly. "What's that?"

"You don't know what the science bros are?" I exclaim, waving my hands around. "Tony and Bruce equals science bros. Don't you guys have fanfiction here?"

"Um … Ava, Bruce isn't here with us anymore. He left during the Lutron incident apparently."

"Oh." I sound kind of crestfallen. "Yeah, I forgot about that. Hulk was in a jet, and he turned Natasha off the screen, and flew away by himself."

Sam eyes me suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

"Uh, the movies, duh?" I look at him in disbelief. "Anyways I think he ends up on Asgard from what I've seen of the Thor: Ragnarök trailers. So …" Slowly, I trail off, having realised what I just said.

"Um … What?!"

"Oh." I wave a hand vaguely. "Don't worry, it doesn't happen for a few years." I frown, thinking over what I can remember. "At least, the movie is released like 2 years after Age of Ultron. It doesn't matter. Now, Civil – "I clap a hand over my mouth, trying to stop myself for talking. If I give out information, it might affect the way this world ends up. Not that I don't want Civil War to not happen, but how do I stop it gently? How do I avoid making it worse?

"Civil what?" Sam is watching me carefully now.

"Just a, um, movie I saw. Back home, I mean. It's not from the same universe though; the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I mean. That's the one all this Avengers' stuff is from."

 _Great, now I'm telling lies_. This is going to turn into a tangled quickly, isn't it? I need to remember to hold my tongue, and not interfere with events. It's got to happen, right? Civil War? But – I could change that, I could stop it, I could save them all from so much pain. I could do all of that, but I could also fail. If I'm not careful, I'll get tangled in my choices, secrets, and lies. For all I know, I might do more harm than good.

"Alright then." He sits back, looking unconvinced. "I'll look out for it – in the _future_."

We lapse into silence, watching the others work. It seems to be intense; a lot of kicking, punching, and slapping their opponents. Some of them are rather graceful, almost cat-like in their movements. Most of these are taken down with a few hits, but only when _caught_. Some move more on strength, becoming a solid wall against the attacks of their opponents. These ones are slower, but more difficult to take down with only few hits. I think I would fall into the former category. Well, all the bending training for water and air meant I had to move with flow and grace. It's enough to make anyone lithe.

While I've been lost in my thoughts, Sam had disappeared. I lean back against the wall, a little bit annoyed. I know I don't know him, like at all, but it would've been nice for him to say bye. Oh well, back to just me and the silent duo.

But he's not gone completely; Sam's walking back with a pair of bottles in my hands. Ah … there goes me being stupid and judgemental _. Stop doing that_ , I chide myself, _stop judging people before you even know them._ He walks over to me, seating himself on the bench, and handing me a bottle. I flash a grin in thanks, and spin it around to peer at the label.

"Gatorade, huh?" I twist the cap off, and take a sniff. "Never had this before."

"Really? Not at all?" Sam raises an eyebrow. "It's brilliant."

"It is, eh? It's not as popular in the U.K, so you'll have to be my advisor on this stuff." I take a sip, and cough. "Ugh! This stuff is sweet. I'm not sure I'll like all this. But hey, got to try things, right?"

"You sure do. If you never try something new, you'll never make mistakes worth learning from."

"Wow … "I lean back, contemplating his words. "That's some philosophical thinking, Mister Superhero. Maybe you can write a book – fill it with thoughts like that."

"Huh." Sam gives a short laugh, a vaguely amused expression over his face. "Part-time author, part-time superhero, yeah?"

"Well, everyone has to have a hobby, right?"

"Alright then – "He gestures to me with the drink bottle, "what's yours?"

"Mine? That would be taking down evil dictators." I deadpan, looking him straight in the eye. But then I look away, laughing to myself. "Alright – no. I, um, sing a little. But I guess element-bending is my hobby. We don't really fight with it, _see_? If everyone can do it, what's the point? We _do_ spar though; it helps us to practice."

Sam stands, gazing over to an empty sparring space. "Wanna get some practice in then?"

"Alright." I stand, dusting off my leggings. "You're on."

After a few moments to stretch, Sam and I stand opposite each other on a large sparring mat. We both take stances, watching the other carefully for any hint of movement.

"Say, um, can I like use my bending? Or are we just doing hand-to-hand?" I call over to Sam.

"Just hand-to-hand. I ain't got no powers, so it'd be cheating a bit, huh?" He gives a short laugh as he talks.

I shake my hands out, regretting my decision now. Yeah, all the bending training does give you a lot of martial arts training as well, but we don't really fight each other like that. I'm not practiced in it, and Sam is much bigger and stronger than me. _I'm so losing this fight._

We move forwards, and the fight begins. Whoever is taken down first and concedes, loses. That or if you get pushed full body out of the ring. That counts as losing too. Circling each other, we wait for one to make their move. I have a feeling this will be an interesting fight.

I launch forward, aiming a swift punch towards his torso. Sam leaps back, dodging my blow. He strikes back, with a whack towards my right side. Darting out the way, I retreat to the opposite each of the ring. Sam aims a punch at me. I raise an arm to block it. But the blow stings, and I barely have time to dodge another one. In retaliation, I flick a kick at him, hitting his side. He clutches at it briefly, before firing a return kick back. I have to flip over to avoid it. Landing clumsily on my feet, I spin round, fists raised. I feint a punch at his head. But he realises, and dodges my second hit. Sam grabs my arm, and flips me over his shoulder. I smack into the ground, breathless. He stands over me, victorious.

My chest heaving, I accept his hand to pull me up. "Whoa … That was – "I draw a heavy breath, hands on my waist, "intense. But fun. Thanks for that, Sam."

"Any time, Ava." He nods to the crowd that had gathered to watch us. "Looks like we've got some attention."

"Right." I pull my hair forward, forming a curtain between me and them. "Do they do that often?"

"Yup. Especially when Steve and Natasha spar." He pulls my chin up, a smile creasing his face as he looks at my worried expression. "It's fine. It's just entertaining to everyone – watching the superheroes fight each other and all, like this."

' _Entertaining', huh?_ I think to myself _, if only you knew what's coming for you all._ Will they still finding it entertaining when you fight for real?

* * *

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	4. Dreams, Movies, and Breakfast

**Dreams, Movies, and Breakfast**

* * *

Tonight, I'm sleeping in a room that's mine. Not a cell this time, but a spacious room. It's empty though, just about, and that makes it lonely. I miss the pastel walls, bright book-covers, and quote prints from my own room back home. Just above the bed, I had a map of Middle Earth. There was a desk under the window, and bookshelves surrounding it. A wardrobe leaning against the wall next to the door. A dozen prints of book and movie quotes on the wall opposite. It wasn't artistic, or perfect, or minimalistic, but it was mine. This place is foreign. I'm not sure it will ever feel like home.

I don't think I'll ever feel at home in this world.

Twitching aside the bedcovers, I crawl under the plain sheets. It's a warm night, so I'm only dressed in a borrowed t-shirt and underwear. I found a small stack of clothes on my bed as I came in. This shirt is from someone much bigger then me; it feels like I'm wearing a dress. But it's clean, smelling of lavender detergent. It's much better than my two-day old clothing.

Flicking a wrist at the light switch, I send a small air blast at it, switching it off. The room plunges into darkness, and I snuggle down in the covers. My eyelids flutter shut, and I drift off into blissful sleep.

* * *

 _I'm standing in the cellar, a small flame fizzing in my palm. Lucy warned me not to cause trouble, but I did. Now I'm stuck down here as punishment. The cellar would be dark for a normal person, but my fire-bending allows me to see, if only a little bit._

 _It's an all-night stay for me, apparently. I don't see the problem though, all I did was mess around the local town residents, making them think they could bend two elements. It was hilarious – all the people running around, screaming and trying to make it stop. They would tell their neighbours, who would scoff and laugh at them when they couldn't repeat it._

 _I've got all of it on camera._

 _But the whole thing annoyed our guardians, so they took me down here. Well, I say took, but they really threw me in. I've two bottles of water, a dozen power bars to last me all night. I don't think I'll be sleeping down here._

 _My fire flickers, and I shiver. This is going to be a long night._

 _Shuffling along the passages, I begin to explore the chests, and cabinets that surround me. Everything down here is dusty. Old. Nobody ever comes down here; only for punishments, and dumb unwanted things. There should be an old chair of mine down here. Maybe I'll sit in it._

 _Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a small stone shining in the corner. It does nothing as I pick it up, looking completely unremarkable aside from the fact that it appears to be a gemstone. It's pretty, if nothing else. I take it in my hand, turning it this way and that in the light. As I spin it in my palm, a flash of light blinds me. I drop the stone, and fall screaming into water._

* * *

I sit up screaming, my covers twisted around me like a straitjacket. My breath comes heavy and quick; my heart pounds; and sweat breaks out over my skin. I writher around on the bed, trying to free myself from my covers. The door bangs open, and I shriek again.

But it's only the Avengers. Sam comes straight over, concern etched over his face. I scramble to pull myself free from the blankets, embarrassed that they're seeing me like this. A fierce blush coats my cheeks, and I busy myself with looking down at the floor. Bad enough I woke them all with my screaming, but I just had to do while dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear.

Reaching for the pile of borrowed clothes, I quickly pull on a pair of shorts. Now that I'm halfway-decently dressed, I might be able to address the other problem. My nightmare.

Raking my hair from my face, I swivel around to look at the Avengers. To my surprise, none of them really look disappointed that it was just me waking from a nightmare. Frankly, Vision looks a little surprised. But most of them have varying looks of concern, or a shadow of having been through the same situation many times before.

Wanda's eyes seem glazed over, and I feel a presence nudging at my mind. She's trying to find out my dream was. I only half-heartedly fight back; my eyes fix on her, pleading for help. It's not the first time I've had the nightmare. Anytime I've fallen asleep or been knocked unconscious, that scenario has replayed in my mind. The events leading up to this. The reason why I'm here, and not at home.

When Wanda withdraws, I breathe a sigh of relief, and slump down on the bed. My voice still holds the shake I try to hide as I say:

"You saw it? My dream?" I direct my words at Wanda, ignoring the others.

She nods tentatively. "Yes. It was – confusing." Wanda tilts her head, a questioning tone clear in her words. "Why were you down there? It did not look safe."

I draw my knees up on the bed, and wrap my arms around them. "That doesn't really bother them. I had disobeyed our guardians, so I had to be punished." I pause, flicking my gaze up to look at each of the Avengers. "As an example, see? So that no one else would do it. So that the younger kids wouldn't think you could get away with breaking the rules. It's for our own safety." I bury my face in my knees. "It was stupid, what I did."

Sam comes to sit beside me, rubbing my back slowly. It's slow, but reassuring. It wasn't silly for me to have a nightmare. It's ok to be afraid of the memories hiding in my mind.

"T-thanks." I mumble, looking up at him. "You all shouldn't have to come see me just because I had a stupid little nightmare." Blinking tears out of my eyes, I shuffle away from Sam slightly.

"Everyone has nightmares. It's fine." Sam moves his arm away. "I'd be surprised if you didn't. If you don't mind me asking, what was is about?"

I bite my lip, uncertain. I'm not sure if I want to tell him. It's dream, right? So, it's my burden to deal with, not anyone else's. Besides, he's an Avenger; he'll be busy, too busy to deal with me and my little problems. Sam doesn't need to deal with me, so I shake my head.

"Alright then, but I'm always here to talk." He stands up from the bed. "I was – am – a counsellor, you know? It's my job to talk with people about things like this. Don't worry about it Ava. It's better for it to be out, than all bottled up inside. Don't let it fester, ok?"

I give a small nod, and watch with blank eyes as everyone leaves my room. The door bangs shut, and the room plunges into darkness. Really, I should try and salvage some more sleep. No doubt I'll have to get up early; I'm training with the Avengers after all. That's going to be so much fun. _Not_.

Thumping my head down on the pillow, I snuggle back under the covers. But after a few minutes, I'm scowling at the wall opposite, completely unable to fall back to sleep. Sighing, I sit upright, sticking my legs over the side of my bed. Stumbling over to the door, I head into the common room area.

It's dark in there, but I conjure a small flame, enough to see by. I make my way over to the lounge, bare feet protesting at the cold floor. But it allows my seismic sense to work. So, I don't fall anything too much. If I make too much noise I'll wake everyone up again. _That'll please them_ , I think, rolling my eyes.

Approaching the T.V – to grab the remotes – I notice my reflection, pale as a ghost in the screen. My green eyes look bloodshot, with dark bags underneath them. There's a bruise on my temple – from falling over in the chair yesterday. My hair is ruffled up and frizzy, not how I usually like people to see.

Having located the remotes by now, I scan the shelves nearby for boxsets or movies. My lips curl upwards in a faint grin as I spot a _Lord of the rings: special DVD extended edition_ boxset. My heart skips with glee, and I pull the box out. At least they have decent movies here. Placing the first disk of _Fellowship of the ring_ in the correct slot, I settle back on the sofa. There's no time like the present for a _Lord of the rings_ marathon.

As time flashes by, I engross myself in the movies; laughing at Merry and Pippin's antics; jumping at the sight of old Bilbo wanting the ring; humming the fellowship theme tune. It's 3 o'clock in the morning by the time I've finished the first film, but I just can't bring myself to go back to sleep. So, I start up the next film in the trilogy, ready to watch the whole thing. It's the best way to procrastinate; by watching a movie series, that is.

* * *

My eyelids flicker open sleepily, and I'm surprised to find myself slumped over the sofa. The boxset has been moved to the coffee table, and a blanket to cover me. As I wake up further, I see the time reading 10:00 am. Bolting upright, I swing my body off the sofa, thumping onto the floor. Giggling madly, I regain my bearings to see Steve, Sam, and Natasha sat around the kitchen table.

Steve turns his head to look at me - that damned enhanced hearing – and raises an eyebrow at my appearance. I look down, grinning ruefully at my rumpled clothing. Mouthing my intent to go get dressed, I slip as quietly as possible out of the room.

Once safely behind my closed door, I strip off and head straight for a shower. My grimy hair and sing rejoices as the warm water sluices over my tired muscles. The shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel aren't mine, but they smell alright. As I towel off, I notice the faint smell of raspberry shower gel has clung to my skin.

My damp hair gets a thorough brush in my attempt to rid myself of unwanted tangles. Satisfied, I rummage around in my pile of clothes, hunting for something decent. Deciding on a plain black tee, jeans, and a pair of red socks and matching hoodie, I scramble into them. With a last look in the mirror, I re-enter the common area.

The others are still, idly reading newspapers, and snacking on various bits of toast and fruit. Heading into the kitchen, I hunt around for food. Once I find the bread, I settle on making my own toast.

But Sam's voice sounds from the table, a quirk in his smile. "Isn't it a bit late for breakfast?"

I glance over at the cloak, and silently agree. Somehow, I managed to spend just under an hour getting ready. _Well_ , I reason to myself, _I did have a shower as well_.

So, I call back to him, still busy on making my breakfast, or brunch, whatever. "I'm having elevensies."

"Uh-huh." Sam nods looking faintly amused.

"Yep. All part of being a hobbit."

"Right. You found the Lord of the rings movies then." He chortles, glancing over at Steve. "We've got another convert."

"Please." I snort, looking at them. "I've loved Lord of the rings since I was a kid. I had leather bound versions of the books at home, as well boxsets for both sets of movies." At least that's a good memory I have of home; of my life before I headed to the school. Those things were some of the few I bothered to take with me. The rest I left, or burnt.

"Nice to know I've got someone else to watch and read with, then." Steve contributes, without looking up from his paper.

"Same to you."

A sudden POP of the toaster makes me jump. I fall backwards against the opposite counter, earning myself another bruise. Ducking my head, I pull the bread from the toaster, tossing it on the board, and busy myself with hunting for a knife. Upon finding one, I heat the blade gently with my palm, and stick in the butter. The warm blade slices easily through the cold butter slab, and I slather it all over the bread. I take a bite and sigh. _mmm … This is delicious!_

I could get used to this.

* * *

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	5. When dodgeball goes wrong

**When dodgeball goes wrong**

* * *

Feet clad in squeaky new trainers, I slide around the corner, pausing in front of the training room door. It's not … the room, or anything. No, it's the people in there. I've got to go and train with a bunch of strangers for a few hours a day until the Avengers see fit to change the arrangement. Apparently, I need to brush up on my stamina, speed, and technique. Speed isn't exactly an issue – when you can bend the air around you, you can speed yourself up.

But I'm not allowed to rely on element-bending skills for this. I have to learn to build it up through hard work. Which is just brilliant. I'd thought I'd be finished with training at 20 years old, but no. No, I'm stuck in an alternate universe with a bunch of strangers. Training. Whoopee-doo. Score for me.

Still, I'm not exactly all that inclined to go. I'm still weighing up my options to try and escape, when a lady with smooth black hair sweeps on by with a question:

"You not going in?"

I gulp, shifting my weight from foot to foot. She's looking at me weird, and I've only got one option: to agree. "Yep. I was just … um, not certain that this was the right place."

"Right …" She narrows her eyes at me. "And you didn't just read the sign?"

"Oh." I blush, mentally face-palming myself. "I, eh, didn't – didn't see it there." _Nice one, Ava, real smooth lying there._

With raised eyebrows, she turns and walks in. Then, with reluctant footsteps, I follow her.

* * *

The room is the same as before: large open space; training mats all over the floor; gym equipment in one area; and a swimming pool in the next room over. A group of young men and women are running laps around the room. With a shrug, my companion and I join them. Our feet pound up a rhythmic beat echoing through the room. It's calming, but also disconcerting, this sameness. It's nice to part of something, but at the same time it's stifling. I don't want to lose myself and become part of a hive mind.

But that's getting a little deep for a training exercise, isn't it?

After ten minutes of running (according to my watch), the instructor calls for us to stop. I collapse to the ground, chest heaving. I am so not ready for all this. I managed about 13 laps of the place, but with my air-bending it could have been way more. I'm still not so clear on the fact: am I allowed to use my powers, or am I here as a 'normal' person? Well, as normal as someone training in the Avengers' HQ can get.

"Right then – "A short, muscly man, with an ugly scar down his left arm, stands up at the front of our ragged group, "you'll be splitting into two teams, and having a dodgeball game for the first hour of this session. For those who arrived late – "he glares at my companion and I, "I am Lucas Greaves. To be known as 'sir' by you, understand?"

There's a spatting of nods, and 'yes sirs.' before he growls at us again. "I said, do you understand?"

At once we all chorus our agreement, whilst exchanging nervous glances with each other. There's curiosity too – at how _dodgeball_ , more of a P.E. lesson game than agent training, is going to help anyone. I mean, it's not exactly battering up bad guys, or practicing stealth techniques. So, why are we bothering to do this? I'd ask but … well, let's just say I don't want to get on Greaves' bad side.

With a list in hand, our instructor starts to separate the twenty of us into times of ten. "Right then, team one." He shuffles his paper.

"Sophie Carrock," _A freckly ginger with a toothy grin._

"Adrian Smithy," _A lanky guy with cropped brown hair and long eyelashes._

"Evan Yancey _,_ " _A blond with twinkling blue eyes._

"Michelle Collins," _Another blonde, with a sour expression, and smudged eyeliner_.

"Ava Talbot," _That's me._

"Elizabeth Scotney," _The dark-haired girl from earlier, with a calm and elegant poise_.

"Mark Allen," _A brunette with longer locks of curly hair_.

"Jason Noland," _A freckly dude who taps hid finger against his thigh: nervous, or bored?_

"Casey Horne," _A dark-skinned lady with an envious afro._ "

Hunter Price." _A guy who must at least 6"6 tall, with short black hair._

"You lot go into the next room and plan strategy; the rest stay here and do the same." Greaves directs us in a cool tone, and drops his clipboard onto a nearby bench.

Team one (that's us) jump up and leave quickly, leading to the swimming pool room. I stare at the water ruefully; the last time I was near here, I was sparring with Scarlet Witch. Now I'm planning for a dodgeball game with a bunch of strangers. How times change, huh?

"Alright then; anyone have any secret talents at this stuff then?" The ginger girl – Sophie, I think – steps forward, glancing around at each of us. We all shake our heads, uncertain. This prompts an exasperated sigh. "Well that's not good enough! Come on guys!" She exclaims, throwing her hands up.

I'd mention my own particular, ah, _talents_ , but I don't think I'm meant to be using them for this.

Lanky dude shuffles beside me. "I'm not too shabby at throwing." _I really need to learn their names._

"That's something at least. Anyone else?"

"Um … I guess I can catch alright. I was always backstop for baseball at school." Evan fidgets with his sleeves as he mutters.

"Perfect." _I can't help but feel that Sophie has ended up directing us all. I wonder if she was bossy as a child. Maybe, or maybe not._

I decide to speak up, opening and closing my mouth like an idiot before I manage to get the words out. "So, I can move pretty well – you know, for dodging and stuff. Like a, uh, _breeze_ as one of my old trainers used to say."

"Same here. 'Cept for the breeze bit. I ain't ever been called that." Elizabeth nudges me with her shoulder, promoting a little laugh.

"I think we'll be ok then. If you, "Mark points to me, "and you," then to Elizabeth, "go at the front to be the bait, as it were. Then Evan can be around the middle, and Adrian. Michelle, Sophie and I could go at the back. Which leaves Casey, Hunter, and Jason to move around the rest of us, helping out where needed and swapping positions if needed with others." We all nod along with his plan.

"Sounds great." Sophie claps her hands together, eyes lit up with some feral competitiveness. "Let's go beat their asses!"

We all cheer and move back into the main room. I wonder how the other team have set themselves up. But the room itself has a large area, about the size of a school-sized indoor basketball pitch cleared. A ring of mats surrounds it, marking out clear borders. I guess we go sit on the mats when we're out then. At least it's not benches as a border; they can be very painful to fall into, _very_.

Six balls are lined up in the middle; ready for the mad dash at the start. Everyone stands with both feet touching the each of a rear border mat, waiting for the signal. The whistle blows, and we charge forwards.

Jason, and Michelle manage to snag a ball each. The rest of us move into formation. Team two is eyeing us with narrowed eyes, like circling wolves watching their prey. We grin back with feral flashes of teeth. Let the game begin.

A ball flies level with my waist, and I side-step to avoid it. Jason pelts a ball over. Beside me, Elizabeth ducks, dodges, and deflects balls. Sophie catches a first ball and, with cheers from the rest of us, catches the thrower out. The brown-skinned dude leaves the game, sitting on one of the mats. We've made the first out.

As the game goes on we lose both Casey and Adrian. Elizabeth and I are moving furiously to dodge all attacks. It's only my air-bending training that lets me dance away from a fast ball. Hunter nails a solid hit on a tanned girl with muscular arms. But he's hit by a return throw from another girl.

By now we're down to Elizabeth, Mark, Jason, and I on our side. The other side has three girls, and two guys on theirs. Tension is rising, and we're ready for an all-out battle. _May the best team win._

Mark catches out one of the girls quickly enough, but is hit by the taller guy. The same dude smacks a ball into Jason's shoulder, and he's out for the count. Elizabeth fires back another, and hits a brown-eyed girl, and nearly gets the shorter boy with one, bouncing hit. But a retailing throw knocks into her elbow and she's out. Now it's just me. I can honestly say, if I wasn't cheating a little with my air-bending; I don't think I'd still be in.

"Just us then." I call over to my three opponents, each toting a ball.

One of them rolls his eyes at me. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Fuck you Watson." I reply, lobbing a ball at him. He sidesteps, and comes back grinning.

"You'll have to do better."

"Well, "I say, picking up another ball, "three against one isn't exactly fair, is it?"

"No – "He signals to each of his teammates, "it's not. NOW!"

Three, simultaneous balls are chucked at me. I freeze, reacting only on instinct. Pushing my hands out in front of me, an air shield appears and the balls bounce off it. I look up to see my shocked opponents watching with open mouths.

"Eh … heh …" I give a sheepish grin. "You never said I couldn't do this."

The instructor (Greaves) is bright red, with a vein pulsing out in his forehead. My fellow trainees mutter and whisper among themselves, pointing at the balls strewn over the floor, and the space where my shield appeared. I guess that means I've shown everyone my own special talents. _Way to deal with the elephant in the room Ava,_ I mentally scold myself.

"You!" Greaves points at me, and I jump. "With me." When I don't respond immediately, he yells. "NOW!"

Dropping my ball to the ground, I scoot after him, half-running, half-walking. My trainers squeak on the floor, and I wince at the sound. But, other than that small sound, we walk in silence, striding ever closer to wherever my doom lies. Ok, so maybe it won't be that made. I mean, the Avengers _already_ know about me, yeah? So, if that's where he takes me, then it'll be ok-ish. Well, it meant be _less_ bad, but that's better than it could be, right?

We arrive at a smooth, pale door, where Greaves knocks smartly with his knuckles. I stare out the bordering windows; looking over the grounds. There's a bunch of trainee agents running laps; an obstacle course in the distance; and more agents doing drill on a stretch of tarmac. It's busy, slightly chaotic, but brilliant. The feeling's nice: knowing that there's people here, working on protecting the world from danger. It's a comforting thought; someone is this crazy dangerous world cares.

When no one answers, Greaves knocks again, louder. But there's still only silence. With a sigh, he turns the handle, and pushes the door open. It's an empty office, with a desk, chair, and some kind of drawing leaning against one of the window. Greaves huffs in displeasure, and stomps back out the door, muttering as we walk:

"Great … he must be down with the cadets … I wouldn't like to do this in front of all of them … didn't they know they had a superpowered when she joined … if they did, why didn't they tell us?" There's a pause, where he half-turns to look at me in distaste. "I hate this job."

Eventually we reach a door leading out onto the tarmac. The other cadets are still running drills, and overseeing them is – Captain America. Go figures, that must've been his office we peaked in early. I wonder if Greaves is allowed to go snooping around his superior's office. Maybe not, but in a high-security place like this, you wouldn't leave doors unlocked. Maybe it has a fingerprint scanner on the door handle, that only lets in certain people. The possibilities are endless, to be honest. There could be any number of reasons – I'm getting side tracked again. _Oops_.

Greaves marches straight up to the Captain, puffing his chest up as he goes. I'm trying not to giggle, but I can't help it. He looks so silly doing that, and a small squeak escapes my mouth. Clamping my hand over my mouth, I try to hold it in. Good God, I don't want Greaves thinking I'm laughing at him. That'll make training sessions _real_ fun. I roll my eyes at the thought.

Steve has rotated around now to see; eyes furrowed at seeing him trailing behind Greaves in my attempts not to laugh anymore. My instructor walks straight up to him, and starts muttering something to Steve, looking back every so often to point at me. I give a little wave every time he does it, watching his face go redder and redder. This is more fun that I thought.

But they're gesturing for me to come over, and I groan. Now I've got to try and explain my way out of this one. _Nice going Ava, really a great way to make good impressions on the people you want to_ **not** _kill you._

"– We did know about her abilities, Mr Greaves. It's supposed to be classified information, well above the level of any trainee. I guess she's just decided to un-classify herself." The corners of Steve's mouth twist upwards into a faint smile. I catch the last dregs of the conversation as I stroll, fidgeting with the hem off my shirt. "Leave it with me, I'll sort everything out. You go back to your session." With that, Steve effectively dismissed Greaves, sending away with a scowl on his face.

"So, Ava …" Steve turns to me.

As close as I am, you can really notice the dorito shape of his shoulder to waist ratio. I wonder if anyone here has noticed that, and if anyone _calls_ him Dorito. It was a Tumblr post though, and an image from the first Avengers' movie. But if that all really happened, then people couldn't get hold of that data. Unless, it was a much of S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives. That's possible, I guess.

But I realised I've completely zoned out, not even listening to what Steve was saying. He's looking down at me, waiting for an answer. I blink back up at me, shuffling my feet awkwardly. "Uh … Yeah, I kinda zoned out a bit there … Um, could you like repeat the question?" I give what I hop winning smile. "Pleaseeee …"

He sighs, rubbing at his temple. "Pay attention this time. Look, we don't want you using your abilities in training sessions with non-enhanced or superpowered people. Firstly, we have no idea about the extent of your abilities. You could endanger their lives, as well as your own. Secondly, strictly speaking, you don't exist as you are in this universe. It's important that you don't make yourself known until we found out more. What happens if there's a version of you _here_ , in this world? If you go around publicly, they could target this universe's version of you, and anyone close to them." Steve looks right in my eyes. "You could put innocents in danger, _understand_?"

I gave a quick nod, startled by this information. I never really thought about that … Hell, it never even occurred to me that the other me, in this universe, could be in danger because of _me_ and my actions. It sickens me: that I never even considered for a _minute_ the impact of my actions. I need to get better at this. I have to start thinking about the world, and not just myself. _The world could depend on it._

* * *

 **Hey there guys! Hope you've enjoyed the latest instalment of Ava's chapter.**

 **It's a day late, I know, but I had prom last night, and was exhausted from about 5 hours of party time.**

 **But it's here now.**

 **I only own my OC. I wouldn't have to write fan fiction if I owned Marvel, would I now? _He-_ _He_.**

 **Until the next chapter.**


	6. Lost and Found

**Lost and Found**

* * *

I'm lost.

Seriously, I've somehow lost my way on my walk around the grounds, and ended up near a lake. It's a nice enough lake, I guess, and considering I haven't run into any guards or fences, I have to assume I'm still in the compound. Where in the compound – now, that's an entirely different question. One that I have absolutely no idea what the answer to that is. Looks I'm going to have to wander around now, searching for a way back. _Another brilliant choice, Ava; getting lost after only four days here._

After a few more minutes of futile wandering, I scream in frustration. It only startles a few birds from their perches among the trees. I sit down on the grass, trying to think of ways my bending could help me. Possibly, I could air-bend a sphere, and fly around to find my way. But if I fly too high, I could miss the boundaries and get completely lost. So that's one plan scrapped, onto to plan two. I could use my seismic sense, and try and find nearby people. They could lead me back.

The latter sounds more reasonable, and I tug off my shoes and socks, leaving my feet bare to the earth. I close my eyes. At once the vibrations rush in, marks of people wandering nearby. There's some not far from here. Opening my eyes, I grab my shoes, jogging in the direction of the vibrations. Assuming I'm not just registering a small earthquake, I might be able to get unlost.

Sprinting through the grass in my attempt to find them, I barrel straight into the person I was looking. With an oomph, we thud into the grass, with me landing on top. As quick as I can, I push myself, with flaming cheeks. They stand up, and I realise it's the girl from outside the gym, and the one who was on the same team as me for dodgeball. I rake through my brain trying to remember her name.

"Elizabeth Scotney!" I shout suddenly, as I realise her name. She gives me a baleful look, rubbing her arms. "Uh … I – um – remembered your name." I take a big swallow, shifting awkwardly. "Sorry 'bout, you know – running into you and all. It's becoming a bit of a habit. I ran straight into the back of Scarlet Witch two days ago, trying to escape …" I clamp my mouth shut, stopping my flow of words _. There I go again, me and my big mouth._

"Oh … right then." She still looks a little confused by my dump of information. "Sorry – did you want something?" Elizabeth gives me an expectant look.

"Yeah … See, I got myself lost and I …" I look down, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I just go. I shoulda known not to wander, huh?"

"Ava – it is Ava, right?" I nod. "The one who did something with an air barrier of some sort?" I nod again, glumly. "Couldn't you just … well, couldn't you just fly your way around an' all?"

"I guess …" I wince, thinking of when I showed everyone my abilities, or part of them at least. "I'd probably get even more lost, and end up where I don't know nowt at all."

"Well, "Elizabeth turns back to the direction she was heading before, "you could come with me, and then I'll show you back. But only if you promise not to tell anyone that I'm using it?"

"Um … Okay?" I look at her, nonplussed. "What exactly are you using?"

"I found a wooden obstacle course thingy through here. Just past these trees, you see? Anyways, I don't know if anyone uses it, but I have been, to get some extra training in." At that, Elizabeth quickly becomes interested in the dirt at her feet. "Please don't tell anyone."

"Of course not." I give her a small smile. "Lead on, then."

With that, we head towards the trees, pushing through them. After a few yards, we come to a clearing, where there is indeed a wooden obstacle course. Despite it's rather hidden location, it looks clean.

"Did you tidy this up?" I say, running my hand over a pole of cool, smooth wood.

"Nah …" Elizabeth shakes her head. "It was already like this."

"You sure no one else uses it then?" I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Well, there ain't ever anyone else here when I am."

"You gotta admit though, it's a bit weird."

"Hey, I ain't complaining. You wanna have a go?" I nod. "Better put those shoes back on them. Don't know why you even had them off in the first place." Elizabeth shakes her head at me, smooth black hair swishing around her.

"Ah – you see, I can manipulate all the 'four elements'." Making quote marks in the air, I continue. "But I can also use it as an extension of my senses. So, with earth-bending, I've got a kinda seismic sense, that lets me sense vibrations through the earth. That's how I found you." I rub at my left elbow. "I can only really do it barefoot though – hence, the lack of shoes."

"Ok." She takes a step back, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, no - this is hella lot to take in. Are there – "Elizabeth steps forward, waving her hands in front of her, "others like you? Here?"

I shrug my shoulders. "No idea."

Biting my lip, I think over Steve's words from yesterday. _'_ _You could put innocents in danger …'_ I _can't_ tell her any more than that. Much as I'd love to dump my secrets on someone else, to help share the load, I have to keep this secret. I have to; not just for my safety, but for others. And if she asks, if _anyone_ asks, I'm going to have to lie.

 _My web of secrets and lies is growing._

"Well, it's cool anyways. It's water, earth, fire, and air, yeah?"

"Yup. And some sub groups – lightning for fire, metal for earth, etc. That kinda thing."

"Uh-huh." She nods, before a gleam comes into her eyes. "We gonna do this or what?"

"You've done this before, though. You'll win – easy-peasy." I whine at her.

"Uh … You've got crazy element powers. I think we're matched."

I give her a flash of white teeth. At the same time, we move to the first obstacle (a slanted stretch of rigging, and a climb across a beam), lined up and waiting.

"On 3." Elizabeth half-turns to me, a feral grin over her lips. "1, 2, 3. GO!" She shouts, and sprints off, leaping up the rope.

After half-a-second of hesitation, I jump up after her, bare feet protesting at the material. But I'm used to running around with no shoes, I'll be fine. By the time I'm up the rope, Elizabeth is halfway across the beam. I jump up after her, using the air to ensure I don't lose my balance. Then it's clambering down a rope. My competitor is hitting the dirt, as I jump, pushing my hands down to slow my descent with air-bending.

Despite my best efforts, Elizabeth is still leading me. The temperature has heated up, and I'm sweating badly. This shirt is going straight in the wash, and I'm going straight in the shower when we get back. That's assuming I _can_ find my way back. Unlikely.

As we reach the end, by wading through a pool of muddy water (I water-bended it away, so I was just walking on land), we both lean against nearby trees. They provide much needed shade in this heat. I'd give anything to have some water to go swimming in. _Clean_ water, that is. I ain't getting back in that stagnant pool. It's horrible, and could really do with some cleaning. I'd bend the earth out of it, but I'm too tired right now. And too hot.

"Uh …" I moan, fanning myself with my hands. "It's too hot!"

"Hot damn." Elizabeth adds, with a wink.

"Called a police and a fireman"

"I'm too hot."

"Hot damn"

"Make a dragon wanna retire man."

"I'm too hot."

"Hot damn."

"Say my name you know who I am."

"I'm too hot."

"Hot damn."

"Am I bad 'bout that money, break it down."

Together we chant the lyrics, standing up to dance a little. At the end of the song, we share a grin and a laugh. A breeze has picked up through the trees. I stick my hands out into the air; building up the current, and directing it nearer us. Elizabeth watches me with a half-grin over her face, and a tilted head.

"You making this breeze then?"

"Well, "I put my arms back at my sides, casting sideways glances around me, "I'm helping it along so to speak. Giving it a little nudge in the right direction an' all."

"Well, whatever you're doing, it's wonderful. But, uh, we should – "She points back through the trees, "head back now."

"Oh. Right, of course." I shift my weight from one foot to the other. "I just … I've gotta go get my shoes." Pointing behind, I ask: "Is it just back straight through here?"

"Oh. Um, yeah. I'll – I can come with you, if you want." Elizabeth sounds almost shy, and nervous.

"Sure. I could do with a friend."

"Same. So … Um, you can call me Beth if you want. Elizabeth is too long."

"Alright then. _Beth_." I give her a quick grin. "If you can come up with a nickname for Ava, you're welcome to call me it."

"So, is Freaky Elemental Girl too long?" Beth mutters with a twinkle in her deep blue eyes; a touch of mascara is smudged under them. "FGE for short?"

"If you want." I laugh, giving a loud snort. "Sorry."

"Oink, oink."

"Oh, ha ha. Very fun." I roll my eyes at her.

"You love it really."

"Sure, whatever you say."

It takes us another half an hour of talking, laughing, and banter, until we find my shoes and make it make to the main HQ building. We enter together, arm-in-arm, laughing and completely at ease. I don't think I've made a friend so fast. Maybe I'm on to something with just randomly bumping into people. I might just be able to forge a new life for myself here. I might be able to move on from the past.

Maybe.

* * *

 **Another three days have gone by, and another chapter this time.**

 **Just a short, friendship chapter this time round.**

 **Hope you've enjoyed reading it.**

 **Any reviews would be most helpful.**

 **I own nothing but my OCs.**


	7. Independance Day (Part 1)

**Independence Day**

 **(Part 1)**

* * *

Over the next few days, Beth and I made our way to the hidden obstacle course to train. We'd do a few laps together, racing each time. I have yet to beat her; I've come close, but not close enough. Afterwards, I'd practice my bending, while Beth walked. I never did any fire-bending though; if I wasn't careful, I could set the woods ablaze. That definitely wouldn't make a good impression. It would be lasting, though.

As time moved on, Sophie Carrock (the bossy, but effective ginger) joined our duo. I called us the three musketeers. When Jason, Evan, and Mark joined the fabulous three (Sophie, Beth, and I), we liked to call them the three must-get-beers. It wasn't strictly true, but they did always seem to be drinking beer when alcohol was available.

The six of us grew closer over time, and as July approached, along with the celebrations for the fourth of July, the whole compound prepared to celebrate. Now, as a British citizen (of an alternate universe) I wasn't exactly planning on going all out with them. After all, Britain lost part of its empire. Not that that really bothered me; it all happened centuries before any of us were born. Although, Steve was closer to it than the rest of us.

So, come first of July, everyone was buzzing for the celebrations. But the Avengers' were planning something a little different.

* * *

Dressed in some new clothes – courtesy of Stark's bank account – my confusion grew as seeing all the Avengers sat around the kitchen table, talking in hushed tones. Having just been out on the course with Beth, I'd come and showered, so my hair was dripping wet. I fix myself a slice of toast, and shuffled round in my fluffy socks to join them.

Wanda gave me a quick grin, and whispered the details to me. "We're planning a surprise birthday party for the Captain. Just us, though – the Avengers." My face must have fallen, because she hastily amended her statement. "And you, of course. You've been here nearly two months, you count." She gives me a quick nudge with her shoulder, and I give a quick smile.

Everyone seems a little on edge, waiting and watching to see if Steve walks in the room. It's only 7:00 am, so he's usually in the gym, working out. I don't understand why exactly; doesn't the super solider serum keep him fit and healthy? Maybe he just enjoys it. I wouldn't. But hey, guess it's just not my cup of tea.

After an hour of everyone chiming in, the party is finalised and all the tiny details are straightened out. They're setting it up at 8:00 on the fourth, and it's Sam's job to distract Steve for another hour until everything is ready. I'm not sure it's going to work, but the party for Independence Day is happening at the same time, so maybe they can use that. I wanted to go hang with Beth, Sophie and the others. But I'm honoured that the Avengers have invited me, and I haven't known them very long at all. Well, a few days longer than I've known my other friends, but everyone's invited to it. It's not really the same.

I suppose, I could try and go to both of them. It may be a little difficult though. I'll have to make a choice.

* * *

By the time the fourth has rolled around, I've decided to spend the first hour of the party with my friends, and then go back to the Avengers' party. We can see the fireworks from inside – nobody will be outside, most of them have PTSD or some such affliction. They don't need the loud noises triggering memories. The flashing lights will be bad enough.

Right now, though, I'm clicking down the corridors to Beth's room. We've decided to meet up before we go, and she'll critique my outfit for me. I'm not sure what people wear to these things, and it's not my Independence Day. I was tempted to show up in a Union Jack dress, but I don't think that would go down well.

I hesitate before I knock, my fist hovering over the wood. But the door opens before I can knock, and Beth ushers me inside. Her straight hair is pulled up into braided bun. I just left mine half-up, half-down, with my wavy hair falling down my back.

"Hey there!" Beth hugs me, make-up brush clutched in one hand. "Nice top, by the way. Very, uh, patriotic."

"Please …" I roll my eyes. "It's got red, white, and blue stripes. That's the same colours as the Union Jack. Which it has – a Union Jack flag pattern, that is – on the inside. It's an inside-out top."

"Nice." She gives a wicked grin as she pulls back from the hug. "You gonna wear it the other way 'round at some point?"

"Maybe …" I say, widening my eyes innocently. Well, as innocently as I can manage to get.

"Do it."

"Sure. Just for you, Beth."

"Damn right. So, you coming or what?"

"Me?" I give a look of mock outrage. "I was waiting for _you_ and your make-up."

"Eh … True, true. I've just gotta touch up – "She picks up an eyeliner pencil, positioning it at her eyes. Incidentally, they have already been outlined in black, making her deep blue eyes stand out, brighter and harder.

"Nope." I grab the pencil, turning her away from the mirror. "You don't need any more make-up. You look fabulous already. If you don't hurry up, you know, we'll miss the food …" I coax her, dragging her towards the door.

"Oh – please, I just have to …" Beth protests half-heartedly, casting her room a longing look as we progress into the corridor, towards the barbeque area. The initial part takes place outside, but we'll watch the fireworks from inside. As I said, most people have something like PTSD, and don't need any flashbacks.

As we progress down the halls, we reach the tarmacked training grounds (and I suspect it's used as a landing strip too), meeting up with friends along the way. It's only just ten minutes since the party started, so there's not many people here. But they have started making food yet, and my stomach is growling. I barely had any tea to save up for this. Now the food isn't even ready yet. Like, come on!

I've only got about another half an hour, before I have to head back inside, for Steve's birthday party. Guess that means I've half an hour to come up with a believable excuse for my absence until the fireworks which start around 10:30. Maybe I can just cross my fingers, and hope they won't miss me. I can try. I can try.

As more people arrive, the BBQs start heating up, and the delicious smell of burgers, sausages and steak rises through the air. All around, people start swarming for the food, arriving at the tables in a gaggle, pushing and jostling each other to get closer. It makes me raise an eyebrow at the madness.

"Don't you people queue for this? Isn't that … wouldn't it be more efficient? _And bloody easier_?" I question Mark, who's decided, like me, to wait for the chaos to die down a little.

"Well, if you think this is bad, just wait for black Friday. Now – that's chaos." He chuckles, and ruffles my hair.

"Hey! I spent ages trying to stop my hair from frizzing!" I scold him, swatting away his hands. "You're going to ruin it …" Whining at him, I nudge him away, all the while sporting a half-smile.

"You love it really." Mark pushes me back.

"If you want to keep your misguided views than be my guest." I put on a lofty, posh London accent, as I shove me back.

Eventually, we end up in a shoving war. People around us give us a wide berth and a strange look. But I don't care; we're laughing, and it's fun. This is what friends are for, right? Someone you can mess around with at parties. They're for having fun times with, and not being afraid to be yourself. They're for making memories worth keeping. They're for having the good moments; the ones you could use for forming a Patronus.

Friends are the family we choose.

Beth and the others have come back now, each holding a couple of burgers/hotdogs and a drink. The crowd is really building up; I'd no idea just how many people this HQ held. It's way more than I ever expected. Then again, I've only been in the tiniest proportion of this place, and interacted with a rather small range of people. It shouldn't surprise me. Not really.

Whilst I was sucked into my thoughts, the alarm on my phone has chimed. Reaching into the pockets (surprising for women's clothing) of my jean shorts, I pull out the device and cancel the alarm. Beth gives me a quizzical look.

"I, uh, gotta go do some, like, _stuff_ for an hour or two. Be back as soon as I can." I scramble an excuse together, fumbling with the phone in my hands.

"Uh-huh … What 'stuff' would that be?" Beth raise an eyebrow in question. All I think is: sugar, she's on to me.

Struggling to come up a reason, I just blurt the first thing that pops into my head. "It's … bending stuff." Beth doesn't look convinced.

"Yeah – we, uh, have to do a special, um, ritual every fourth."

"Alright then … Don't stay away the whole night. I know it's not exactly your day, Miss British, but it's a party anyways. Don't spend it locked up inside, yeah?" She raises her glass to me in salute.

I nod back, as I walk backwards from the immediate area. As soon as she disappears from sight, I turn and sprint along the tarmac, bursting through the doors in a rush. Using the air to propel myself forwards faster, I launch myself down the corridors, making my way to the Avengers' quarters. My sneakers leave streak marks on the lino flooring. The smell burns at my nostrils.

As the clock strikes 8:59 pm, I duck under the kitchen table, squashing against the chairs alongside Wanda. She gives me a quick grin, and we both focus our gaze towards the entrance way as the time ticks down. In a few seconds, Sam and Steve will walk through that door, and we'll announce our happy birthday wishes.

Three.

Two.

One…

* * *

 **Hey there! Another chapter up for you guys to read.**

 **Again, I know this chapter is shorter, but it's a two-parter, so they'll be more words overall.**

 **Hope you've enjoyed it.**

 **I own nothing but my OCs.**


	8. Independance Day (Part 2)

**Independence Day (Part 2)**

* * *

As one, the Avengers and I leap out from our various hiding places.

"SURPRISE!" We shout, welcoming Steve into his surprise birthday party.

Sam's laughing merrily at the stunned expression on Steve's face. The Captain's eyes are widened, and his mouth gaps open. Natasha's giving him a hug, and Wanda is cheering. I know I'm smiling: I can feel it on my face, but it feels false. They all know each other better than I do. I'm an odd one out.

Just then, Vision phases through the wall, completely unaware that we had already done the 'surprise' part. Wanda laughs, and whispers in his … well, not exactly ear, but the side of his head. I move with her, more comfortable with the youngest Avenger than any of the others. She's closer to my age (I think) than the rest.

Someone starts up the music, and the first song is 'America, fuck yeah.'. I've only ever listened to it once, as a teenager wanting to see what it was like. I guess it fits with Captain America. Very patriotic. As the song plays out, I move over to the kitchen counter top, searching for food. My stomach is rumbling, and I am absolutely starving.

Picking up a few bits and bobs of food – a handful of crisps, some cheese, a hamburger, etc. – I fill my plate up. The others are dancing around, playing silly party games. I lean against the counter top, watching them, with a half-smile forming over my lips. It's nice to see them – messing around, and showing the softer side of them. It's nice to see the people behind the Avengers. I only wish the rest of the world realised that.

"Come on, man, presents time!" Sam calls from the other end of the room, to Steve.

I leave my plate to one side, swiping a chocolate bar to munch on the way there. Everyone is gathered in the lounge; presents cover the coffee table, wrapped in star spangled wrapping paper. It promotes a grin from Steve as he looks at them, thanking everyone.

From Sam: a t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan 'On your left.'.

He tells him with laugh, "Now you don't have to say it every time we go out running."

From Natasha: a set of combat knives, with the note 'It's best to be prepared.'.

Steve turns to Natasha, a quizzical look on his face. She just shrugs at him in return, "What?! You need something in case you lose that shield when we're fighting."

From Wanda and Vision: a collection of short stories from various authors of the last fifty years.

"Something to read in between missions." Visions adds, in his smooth, almost regal voice. It's a rather posh British accent; certainly not a representation of all the accents. I hate when people say they love 'the British accent'. I'm always like, uh, there's way more than one.

From Rhodey: two sketch pads, and a set of pencils.

"'Cos, you always seem to be running out, and sketching of napkins. We need to get you a lifetimes supply."

Finally, from myself: a photograph of the Avengers, that I took a few weeks ago. They've got their arms around each other, and all have wide grins. I remember that day well.

* * *

 _One of the first things I bought with my allowance was a bridge camera. It went with me on trips into the woods with Beth; wanders around the lake, lost in thought; and just about anywhere in the compound._

 _The evening sun was just starting to sink below the horizon, as we relaxed at the lake. It had been a rare afternoon that everyone was off; we decided to enjoy it. I was still rather skittish and unsure about the group, so I had been relatively quiet during the whole time._

 _But the idea for a perfect picture appeared in my mind, and just wouldn't go away. So, with slow, uncertain steps, I approached the group, asking for them to pose for my photo. They agreed relatively quickly – much to my surprise. After a few adjustments, and jostling for position, I had them all lined up and ready. But, Wanda had to ask:_

 _"_ _Aren't you going to join us?" Her eyes were warm, and her tone a little concerned._

 _I had taken a step back, shaking my head, and wishing the earth would swallow me up. It wasn't that I didn't like them … It wasn't that at all. I just didn't feel like I belonged. They were a family, and I was that weird cousin that nobody knows what to do with. The seventh wheel as such._

 _But, after a few photos of just them, they kept asking for me to join them. I earth-bent a pillar for the camera to sit upon. Setting the timer, I rushed over to stand next to Sam, on the end. With a genuine smile, I turned to the camera, and it snapped the one and only picture of all of us._

 _It's the one I would later use for Steve's present; framed in black, with our silhouettes stark against the amber sky._

* * *

Steve gives me an unexpected hug (he did the same with the rest, but he knows _them_ ). I stand there, a little awkward, surprised by it. I didn't think I was really part of them enough to deserve this. Well, they did invite me, so I must be. If only I could start believing my logic now.

After thanks for everyone from Steve, Sam starts up a game of charades. Everyone scrambles around, finding seats, and wanting to be the first one up there. Natasha ends up winning, having stared down all opponents. That woman is terrifying. But then, she is the Black Widow. Scary is in her nature.

Natasha makes the movements for a book, and we all talk out loud as she does so. It's got four words, and the first is short. Vision guess 'to' and gains a nod from Natasha. One down, three more to go. For the second, she makes a gesture like she's stabbing herself.

"Suicide?" Sam guesses, brows furrowed. Nat shakes her head. "Stabbing? Murder? Wound?" All guesses are counted as wrong, and he throws his hands, defeated.

Wanda's hands are starting to glow red, and I'm wondering if she's reading her mind. Nat is frowning her, so I assume she is starting to. At that, Wanda blanches, and the red tinge flickers and dies. The action is then repeated for us, as Wanda's request.

"Kill?" Rhodey asks. "To kill something?" Nat rewards him with a nod. That's two words down now.

The third is another small word; Steve successfully guess it as 'a'. With a gesture, Nat shows the fourth and final word to have three syllables. For the first, Natasha points at a random object (a lamp, in this case) and starts to mime laughing at it. After a dozen cases, and many frustrated outcries and gestures, we give up, begging for her to move on. The second syllable, Nat confesses she's not sure how to attack that one out. For the third, she flaps her arms, making motions like a …

"Bird!" I cry out, smacking a hand against my forehead in realisation. "Is it bird?" Nat nods in reply.

Now with most of the words gathered, everyone starts puzzling out the answer, muttering under their breath. A book. Four words. The last has three syllables. There's something to do with birds and killing. I can't put the answer together, but I'm sure I've heard it before. I know this. I just can't remember it.

In the end, it's a slightly blushing Wanda that puts together the answer. "To kill a something-something bird … To kill a … To kill a Mockingbird!" She half-shouts, jack-knifing up in her seat.

"There you go. Nobody else could get the answer, huh?" Natasha smirks at the rest of us as we protest, everyone talking over each other and coming up with excuses. But the clock strikes 10:00, and we all jump.

"Heh … Look at the time. We'd better get down to the main party if we don't want to miss the fireworks." Sam notes, checking on his watch.

The rest of us nod our assent, jumping out of seats, and clearing away a few plates. As one as everyone is busy looking elsewhere, I duck out the room, sprinting down the corridor as fast as possible. I can't enter with the Avengers, what will my friends think if I come back in with them? They could think I traded them in the Avengers. I can't have them think that. It's not fair.

Taking a deep breath, I push the door open.

* * *

It takes nearly ten minutes to push my way through the crowds, hunting for Beth, Sophie, Mark, Jason, and Evan. They're standing over by the windows, with the best view right down to where the fireworks are set. I feel sorry for the poor soul who has to stay out there and light them. Then again, this HQ is paid for by Tony Stark. I bet he's got some fancy gizmo to light them from a distance. I'd be surprised if they didn't.

The countdown started up; everyone was shouting as one. Several people nearby stuffed earplugs into their ears, but glanced at their fellows with clear eagerness. The air hummed with excitement, vibrated with expectations, and buzzed with joy. I waited with bated breath, exchanging wide-eyed glances and hand squeezes with Beth. We waited.

And then …

BOOM! The sound ripped through the atmosphere, shattering into a cloud of blue sparks that rained upon the grounds. Bright flashes of red, yellow, and green, stare out of a night sky of the darkest kind. Roman candles leave sparking trails. A series of rapid fireworks fill the sky with blinding lights. A rainbow of colours, that burns my gaze, and leaves me breathless. I haven't seen fireworks like them before. Bold. Strong. Vibrant. They fill the sky with wonder and joy. They are better than I imagined.

With a thunderous boom, louder than any before, worthy of Thor's own thunder, the finale shot rose into the air. After a torrent of colours, flashing like flames, an 'a' appeared against the sky. The symbol of the Avengers. Ripping my gaze from the sky, I scanned the crowd for the Avengers. They stood, on a small platform, at the back of the room, watching with bright smiles. I caught Cap's gaze, and mouthed _'_ _happy birthday'_ to him. He smiled back, nodding towards the fireworks.

Slowly, I shifting my eyes back to the sky, watching the last dregs drain from the sky. Beth seized my hand, dragging me outside to dance on the dewy grass. Together we whooped, shouted, and cheered into the night. All around us, people streamed out, screaming at the night sky. The whole place was buzzing.

Best.

Night.

Ever.

* * *

 **Hey there guys, so its late, and I need to upload this quick. If there are any mistakes, just drop me a note, and I'll make sure to edit this piece.**

 **Hope you liked the chapter.**

 **I own nothing but my OCs.**


	9. Food, Sparring, and Disaster

**Food, Sparring, and Disaster**

* * *

"Man, I am starving." I whine, drawing out the last word, as I slump into the common area.

This morning's training session had been the toughest yet. I swear I'm gonna have these bruises for months. My torso is patterned purple, black, and blue from a series of punches, kicks, and hits. Our sparring was brutal, intense, and exhilarating. Everything happened so fast; a flurry of limbs, movements, and hits. I've improved so much since my practice go with Sam. I might be able to take him now. Maybe.

But for now, I'm focusing on food. Delicious food. My stomach is growling, and I need to feed the beast. Jelly and ice-cream, drowning in strawberry sauce, would be divine. Or sticky toffee pudding. Or jam roly-poly. Any of my child treats would be delicious. Angel delight. Jaffa cakes. Banana and chocolate muffins. Mmm … now my stomach really is rumbling. My mouth waters at the thought of such succulent treats. I need to start baking.

I miss British puddings. Or food in general. I mean, there's a lot of stuff here that's similar, or the same. But the different names are really off putting. Like the 'biscuits and gravy' thing. I've yet to see someone eating it, but it sounds disgusting from the way I'm imagining it. Rich tea biscuits in chicken gravy?! That's what it means to me. I'll have to ask one of them to make some so I can see.

Well, food differences aside, as I reach the kitchen, I meet Sam, eating a sandwich.

"Hey-o. What've you got there?" I point to the half-eaten sandwich, hanging from one hand.

"Peanut butter and jelly. Want one?" He takes a bite, and swallows, looking at me expectantly.

"Uh … Not really." I shrug. "Not really a big fan of peanuts … But why put jelly in it?" I wrinkle my nose up.

"Because it tastes good. Why else, huh?"

" _Jelly_?! The stuff you eat with ice-cream, and sometimes fruit. With _peanut butter_?!" My eyes widen in disbelief.

"I don't think we're talking about the same thing." He puts down the food, picking up his Stark tablet. "Show me what you mean on here. And I'll grab the jelly from the fridge."

"Okay Bird-man." I lean across the counter, grasping the counter. Within a few clicks, I've brought up an image of jelly. The bright red kind, shaped by a mould, and wibble-wobbling on a plate. It makes me smile, remembering the little rhyme:

 _wibble-wobble, wibble-wobble,_

 _jelly on a plate,_

 _wibble-wobble, wibble-wobble,_

 _jelly on the floor._

Sam plonks a jar of 'jelly' on the table. "That's jam." I point to it, and then to the image. "This is jelly."

"Ah. You mean Jell-O. We call this stuff in the jar, jelly. It's strained – no fruit. See?"

"Hmm … Well, do we have any Jell-whatever?"

"It's Jell-O, and yeah – we do. None made up though, why?"

"I dunno … I just … You know, fancied a bowl of jelly and ice-cream. Reminds me of my childhood. Reminds of home." I give myself a shake, dropping myself out of the memories. "It doesn't matter."

"If you say so Kiddo." That earns him a death glare. "What? If you can call me Bird-Man, I can call you Kiddo, right?"

"But I'm not a kid." I fold my arms.

"Yeah you are. To the rest of us, you definitely are. 'cept Wanda, of course. To Cap, well, everyone could be his grandkids, if you know what I mean." Sam gives me a quick wink, just as Steve walks through the door.

"Ah … Sam, and Ava, just who I wanted. We're having a training session now. Down in the main gym – just us. The rest are already there." He turns to face us, casting a suspicious glance over Sam and I's twinned grins. "Be there is five minutes." The captain leaves us, giggling on the counter, and strides straight out.

Snorting, I clasp a hand over my mouth. "Heh-heh. We should – "But I freeze, giving Sam a confused look, "why am I going, too?"

"Oh … Yeah – forget to mention it earlier. You've improved in the regular training with the recruits, so Steve thinks we ought to start training with you. Test out your abilities, and who is works best with. All that jazz."

"Uhhh … Why?!" I moan, slumping over the counter. "I thought I'd finished all my bending training by now. I'd mastered all the elements four years ago. Whyyyyy … Save me …" I give a dramatic sigh.

The performance makes Sam laugh. "Ok. Well, we shoulda been there by now. You coming?"

"Yeah … I just need to get changed. These clothes stink. Be right back." I jump up, abandoning my seat, and vaulting over the sofa. Air-bending the door open, I charge through.

When I return, after a minute of throwing off clothes, and chucking on whatever I could find, Sam is waiting by the door. Grabbing a banana, I sprint out the door, calling after myself:

"Race you, Sam!"

"You're on!" I hear his footsteps pounding down the corridor, and he turns up level with my right side. Grinning, I bend the air currents around myself, allowing me to burst off. "Not another one! Can't I just have one, regular running partner? Why is that so hard?"

I end up laughing so much at his moaning and whining, that I didn't see the wall up ahead, and slam straight into it. I crumple to the ground, nursing my head. "Ouch …"

"Hmm … On your _right_." Sam mutters as he rounds the corner, and enters the gym.

Struggling up, I limp after him. "Ha ha ha. Very funny."

Steve is waiting in the middle of the room, talking with Wanda and Natasha. They look over to us, and talk a bit more. I don't like whatever they're thinking off. I've no idea what it is, but it can't be good. No matter what anyone else says, I'm not ready to go hand-to-hand fighting with any of the Avengers. If I can use my bending … Well, that'd be so much easier. But in a fairer fight? No way. I will be thrashed.

Not exactly the attitude I should have. But it's the truth.

"Alright then, let's get down to business – "Steve starts doling out instructions, but all I can think of is _Mulan_.

Giggling quietly, I mumble the next line under my breath. "To defeat the Huns!"

"– Vision and Wanda, you'll be practicing that flying trick of Wanda's. See if you can reach the balcony this time. Ava, you'll be sparring with Natasha. Without your, ah, bending first."

That jolts me to my senses, stopping the swirling of song lyrics in my head. "What?! You want me to spar … to spar against Natasha?! Against Black Widow?! I'm nowhere near good enough. Mark my words, I'll be on that mat in less than thirty seconds."

"You'll be fine. The first go is just to assess how you'd do in a situation where you couldn't use your abilities. I'm not accepting you to beat Nat; we just need to see how you fight. Then we'll see how you fight, with bending." Steve gives me a reassuring glance, and directs me to the mat.

Natasha is giving a deadly smirk. "I'll try not to bruise you too bad." Her smile could rival a shark's. "But I'm not making any promises. Shall we begin?"

We take our stances, opposite each other on the mat. My palms are sweating, but I resist the urge to wipe them clean. I can't appear any more nervous than I already am. She's a master assassin and spy. She'll already be able to sense my fear. I can't give her anything more to work with. Not she needs it.

 _Oh, man, I'm so getting flattened._

The whistle blows and we begin.

Natasha launches her first move with deadly accuracy. Charging forward, she makes my side with a powerful kick. My side burns, and I scream out. My opponent smiles, and approaches. The first fist hits my shoulder, but I block the second. My hand forms a ball, and I land a hit on her arm. The knuckles of my right-hand smart and turn red. Natasha slams both hands into my chest, nearly pushing my other. Legs wobbling, I rush forwards, flipping towards her, catching her shoulder with one foot. She grimaces, but continues.

With fluid motions, Natasha has kicked my feet from under me. My back slams into the ground. I groan in pain. Her fists knock into my arms, leaving red marks. I push myself, ready to launch a kick at her. A heavy punch pounds into my back. I collapse on the ground, defeated. My whole-body aches, and I just lay there. The Widow has won; I didn't expect anything less.

After a few moments, I decide I can't really stay on the floor. So, with shaking limbs, I push myself upright. Sam offers a hand to help me, and leads over to a bench. I drop myself on it straight away, grateful for the chance to sit down.

"That fight was about a minute long. See – you lasted twice as long as you expected." His warm eyes twinkle at me.

"I wish it was over sooner. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much then." I wince, rubbing at the bruises forming on my arms. I'll have to water-bend heal to get rid of them.

"Ah. It wasn't so bad. You got a few hits, impressive all things considered."

My eyes narrow. "What things considered?"

"I just mean, that we haven't been training very long. Natasha has been trained since she was a young girl." He pauses, looking a little uncertain. "I don't know the full story, I doubt anyone does. Maybe Clint. Anyways – don't expect so much of yourself."

"I'm not. I'm expecting less of myself, but I should be better. We did martial arts training, kinda, as part of our bending training. We sparred, sometimes, and … I just don't think I'm worth you people spending your time on."

"Ava, seriously? It's not just about what you can do. You're one of us now, like it or not. Everyone here is weird, and crazy, and totally not perfect. We're human, too. We've just got a little bit of extra drama to deal with."

"Like saving the world?"

"Like saving the world." Sam nods in agreement. "And your bending is really good. I've seen you practice a few times, and the footage of Ava versus Wanda. You are worth the time."

"Me versus Wanda? From my not-so-great escape?"

"That's the one."

Before I have time to recall the fight, Steve calls us over. "Right, this time you can spar with your bending. No killing, and minimal maiming as possible."

"With bending?" I rub the back of my neck, eyes fixed on the ground. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. It's not exactly – "I take a deep breath, "easy to keep control when sparring. Strong emotions like anger, or fear, can trigger what we call the Avatar State, or AS for short. It's – "Pausing, I struggle to think of the right way to describe it, "a kinda power boost. It lets you control all the elements as once if you activate it properly, but that's really hard to do. Mostly it's caused by emotion, and can be dangerous."

"You can control it, right?" Sam queries, eyebrows furrowed.

"Sorta. It depends. If I'm in real danger, there's no way to know if I'll be able to reign it in. If I activate, which rarely happens, it'll be fine."

"We'll need to see it some time." Steve interjects, his tone detached and calculated. He must be thinking of uses of such a power boost.

Sure, it can be useful, but I hate using it. The fierce rush of power – it can get to your head. It makes you scary, detached, and cold. Too many people lose their sense of right and wrong when they use the AS. They become reckless, angry, and prone to causing destruction. They don't control themselves, and let the power rule them. It's a destructive path that only ends in death. It's one I hope never to take.

"The AS is boosted by the presence of other benders. The more there are, the more powerful the 'Avatar' is. They're acting like a channel for the power, but the others can still act independently. I'm sure it'd work so well with just me. I mean, yeah – it would be a boost, but without other benders … without other benders it'd be all me. No one else."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, just spar, with bending, with Nat, ok?" The Captain finishes the conversation. I nod glumly, heading back to the mat.

Once again, we take up our stance. The whole gym is ours to use now – more space this way. This time round, I've taken off my shoes and socks. I'm not sure how useful seismic sense will be, this close up, but every little help, right? Fire and air are easier enough elements to use in this scenario, water will have to be gathered from sweat or moisture in the air. I don't think I can bend the earth as easily; the flooring gets in the way.

I launch the first attack, blasting an air current at Natasha's chest. It smacks her backwards. She lands a few feet away, jumping up almost immediately. I sprint forwards, ready use air-bending-slice at her. But she flips away, and I cut through the floor. A kick hits my back, smacking an already sore spot. I cry out. Tears prick at my eyes.

 _Great, water._

Drawing more water from the air, I form a water whip. I whack it at Nat, launching her to the side. She lands on her feet, like a cat, and disappears from view. Next, I see, she's wearing two, glowing cuffs. I cast a curious glance at them. Natasha takes the advantage, landing a punch on my side. The water rises up around me, and I freeze one of her hands over. She scowls at me, but leaps forward. With her frozen arm, she grasps around my neck. The other touches my neck, and sends an electric shock through me. My body convulses, and I pull at her arm. Summoning the last dregs of my strength, I push her back with an air current. My eyes flicker blue, and I try to keep my calm.

But that smug smile Nat has fills me with rage. Sweeping my arms in a fire-bending form, I summon lightning, sending a small bolt at her feet. It scorches the ground, melting the plastic, and leaving an arid taste in the air. Some of sparks reach the cuff, short-circuiting the device. Natasha sits back, looking shocked. I fall to my knees, shamed and embarrassed at my angry outburst of power.

I shouldn't have done that.

My chest heaves. I stare at the burn mark, not believing the evidence before me. I _promised_ myself, ever since I set exploding a building when my fire-and-lightning-bending got out of control, that I would _never_ lose my temper again. That I would stay calm, and keep a cool head when fighting. I just broke that promise. I can't bring myself to look at them, the Avengers. That first day, when they told me I was a _threat_ , that I was _dangerous_ , I didn't believe them.

I do now.

* * *

 **Well, it's late here, but I had to upload this chapter for my readers.**

 **So, it gets a little more intense at the end, and we get hints of Ava's secrets. What happens next? Who knows? *wink, wink***

 **I hope you've enjoyed it.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **I own only my OCs.**

 **P.s I have used the abilities of the Avatar from Avatar: The last airbender series from the powers of people like Ava. But the nature of the Avatar State has been rewritten to fit the different worlds, i.e, no past lives or spirits. If you don't understand the explanations given, just send me a message. I'll make sure to edit to make it clearer.**


	10. Finding a home

**Finding a home**

* * *

It's been five days since I almost fried Black Widow. I've been hiding in my room ever since. The door is locked, and barricaded. No one gets in, but I can get out – not that that's going to happen anytime soon. I'm staying in here until they'll leave me alone. I'm dangerous, and they shouldn't associate with me. I missed that time, but who says that it'll be that way next time it happens … next time I lose my temper.

At first, the others tried to get me to come out. Sam, Wanda, and even Natasha tried. Sam instating that he was there to talk; Wanda saying she knew how it felt to lose control of your powers; Natasha telling me to grow up, that it didn't even touch her. I never talked back. They stopped after the third day.

I know that Vision could just phase through the walls, but so far, he hasn't tried. Maybe he's learning to respect people's privacy. Only last week, I heard Wanda telling that an open door didn't mean he could just walk through the wall. It could just be orders – to leave me in my confinement. They should take me back to the cell. That way, I'm not close enough to hurt them. I won't have to train, and I won't have to use my bending. It'll be safer for them.

I'll miss my bending; it's a part of me, how could I not? But it's so much safer if I don't use it. If I stop practising bending, I might forget how to use. And if that happens … I could be free to start a new life, here, in this new universe. I won't have to hide for being a multi-bender, I won't have to live away from the world. I could be a normal, average person.

I could be free.

* * *

Another day passes by, and I'm just staring at the wall. I've been really hungry, but water wasn't an issue. It might not be the healthiest to drink tap water from the bathroom, but it's better than dying of thirst. I only had a few snacks in my room; they haven't lasted long. Now I've got no food, and the delicious smells wafting over from the kitchen are really tempting me. Several times today, I've found myself stood in front of the door, my hand reaching out to open. But I stop myself each time, reminding myself what I've done. I can't go out there with them.

But, oh, do I want to.

The yearning to be part of a family once more, to not be afraid of who I am is overwhelming. It's burning me up, and one day, I'll explode. If I could just … but no – I can't. I can't be around anyone anymore. What if I get so angry, I release the Avatar State? What happens then?

The thought terrifies me. I wrap my arms around my legs, drawing them up to my chest. Rocking myself back and forth, I let the tears flow. My old best friend, Melanie, would know what to do. She was always so clever about these things; Mel always had a plan for when things went wrong – in fact, she often had several.

Tears stream down my face. _What do I do, Mel? How do I get out of this mess? How do I solve my problems?_ The questions bounce around in my brain, demanding answers, solutions, anything. Now, more than ever, I miss Mel. We were the best of pals, inseparable since we met. We were separated four years ago – Melanie sent to a different compound. We talked over the phone, but I hadn't seen her since then. Everything I have left of her is my necklace, now clutched in my palm. They – the Avengers and their lackeys – gave it back to me, the same day I moved into this room. It was sitting on my chest of drawers, unnoticed when I first walked in. I cried when I saw it.

I'm still crying now.

Sometime later, it could be hours for all I know or care, there seems to be quite the commotion outside. Someone's voice rises above the rest, shouting, screaming, protesting … I jump up when I realise it's Beth. Beth. My heart soars, but sinks again, and I drop to the floor. She shouldn't be here. She doesn't need to deal with me. I appreciate – of course I do, she's my friend – that she came here, but she shouldn't be here. Beth would be safer elsewhere.

The shouting dies down, but they still mutter and mumble near my door. I clamp my hands over my ears, not wanting to listen. They'll try and convince to come out, and I won't. I won't. I won't put them in danger. They're safer with me on the other side of the door; they'd be safer still with me in a completely different building, or better yet – a completely different country. A completely different universe. If only I had never touched that stone … they wouldn't have me to worry about. They would be safe from me and my uncontrollable powers.

It would be better, that way. Why can't they see that?

There's a soft knock against the door; the force ripples through my back, as I lean against the wood. An equally soft voice speaks from the other side:

"Hey there, it's me, Beth. Ava … I'd like to come in and talk to you, is that ok? You don't have to come out … everything will be ok. Just … please, just let me talk to my friend, yeah? Please …" Her voice sounds oddly strained and brittle, as though it threatens to collapse at any second.

"I … "My voice cracks from disuse, and I choke upon the words. "I'm not safe … stay on that side, and leave me. Don't come back … I'm not worth your time."

"Hey! Now listen you little shit – "Anger resonates through Beth's voice, and I can imagine her standing with her hands on her hips, "stop moping around and feeling all pathetic. You are perfectly safe; I've been around you plenty of times, and I probably pissed you a few times, and you never went all Thor-without-the-hammer lightning powers on me. You're one of my best friends, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you keep acting like a whiny toddler. Grow the fuck up."

Her words startle me, and I step back from the door. My hand itches to open the handle, but I do nothing. Not at the moment.

"And all this 'not worth your time' bullshit is going to stop, too. Stop acting like you have to prove yourself worthy of being my friend, or the friend of any of us. We like you for you, and we don't like you locking yourself in your room for, like a week. It's not healthy, and it's not fair on the rest of us. It's selfish."

"S-selfish?! Selfish?!" I catch on the word, sure that I misheard her.

"That's right. You're just thinking of yourself and moping around like a depressing cloud of angst. We need our friend back, and it's selfish of you to not think of anyone but yourself." Beth is spitting the words out now. "We want you to come back out, and help make a difference to the world. You can't do that here. All of us mere non-powered humans at this compound are trying to make a difference, and save people's lives. You've got powers that can help you do it better than we can. You've got the potential to a superhero and save people better than we ever could. If you won't do it for you, then will you do it for them?"

"I'm not a hero, Beth … I'm nowhere close to being a hero. Far from it. What makes you think I could be a super one?" I bite down on my lip, trying to stop more tears from leaking out.

"You've got a good heart and a fierce sense of right and wrong. I've seen it: in all those training simulations, when you'd get others to safety, take the brunt of hits, lead the charge, and be the last one to surrender. You can do this … I believe in you."

I wipe at my eyes, sniffling and smiling at the same time. "You're the real hero, Beth. Superhero of pep talks. What would I do without you?" Reaching up, I gripped the door handle, and let her in.

"Starve to death, that's what, silly." She muttered, crushing me in her embrace. "Don't you ever do this again, ya hear me? Don't ever be so stupid." Beth pulled back, giving me a fierce look.

I nodded, gulping at the steel in her eyes. But then, she laughed, and wrapped her arms around me again. I hugged her back, so glad to have her for a friend. She might not be Melanie, but she doesn't need to be. She's Elizabeth Scotney, and my best friend. A rush of love rose through me, and I promised myself, right there and then, that I would never do anything to put her in danger. Beth is too good, and I don't deserve her. I am lucky to have her, I truly am.

* * *

I'm sat, rather awkwardly, on one side of the dining table, with the Avengers grouped on the other side. Beth is sat next to me; only the tapping of her fingers on the table, and the jiggling of her feet below the table, betray how nervous she really is. I squeeze her hand occasionally, and flash her a small smile. In truth, I'm as nervous as she is; eyes flickering between faces and the walls, palms sweating, and heart pounding. I don't know how they'll feel about what I did. It was wrong, I know that. But I don't know the consequences of my actions.

And now it's time for judgement day …

Wanda is giving me a faint nod of assurance, her eyes focused on my wandering ones. Sam, too, is giving me a reassuring glance. But it's not to them I have to focus on: it's Steve and Natasha that the real control lies with. The former as team leader, the latter as the victim of my anger. It's them I need to work on. Having Sam and Wanda as allies might help, but it isn't their opinion that'll be most important. It's the verdict of those in charge.

"We're not going to punish you, Ava." Steve speaks first, a flicker of concern sparking in those bright blue eyes. "Everyone has had problems with control and high running emotions before. Well, "He flashes a quick glance to Vision, "most of us. We just need to help you control your emotions, and not lash out in anger. We're not here to be your enemies, but to help you. If you can gain more control over your abilities, you could help us save lives. It's better to try and control your powers than not using them at all, understand?"

Ah … I might have been a bit vocal with my desire to never use my abilities again. A lot vocal. In fact, now my mind's a lit clearer, I recall screaming several times … and smashing a fruit bowl. _Oops_.

"I understand. I'm really … "My gaze lifts to Natasha's face, "I'm really sorry about what happened. It was foolish, and I could have hurt you." Trembling hands sit before me on the table, something completely different to how mine usually behave. "It wasn't my intention … I just … "My hands fist together, "I just got angry and lost control. I didn't mean to produce lightning. We weren't … weren't really trained for that. Too dangerous – that's what the carers told us. We learned the movements … I've only ever produced it a few times … I blew up a building last time I tried … I vowed to never use it again …" I trail off, aware that I'd just unloaded one of my worst secrets on all of them.

Somehow, I feel … lighter. As if the weight has been lifted from my shoulders; I am no longer burdened by its shame. I don't have to keep it to myself – these people are my friends, and I trust them. The lightness sweeps through me, living a fuzzy feeling in my chest. Maybe I have found a home, if I choose to stay.

"Ahem … "Natasha casts me a significant look, "we were just saying, Wanda and Vision will be helping you train. Wanda has had trouble with controlling her powers in the best, particularly if she is emotionally frayed. She will be able to help you, and Vision, who helped her control." An almost feral grin crawls over Natasha's face. "Try to blast me again, and I'll make you really regret it. But don't worry, I won't kill you."

My face must be a picture of terror, as Natasha gives a short, fruity laugh.

"I'm joking. Black Widow only kills her enemies now, not her sparring opponents."

The words send a shiver through me. What exactly did Natasha go through to make those words applicable to this situation? What horrors did she go through?

But my stomach rumbles, and I'm reminded of my lack of food over the best few days. "Uh … Can I, like, have some food, please?" I give an innocent shrug.

Wanda tosses me a banana using her Scarlet Witch powers. I munch into it, grateful for the snack. A smile creeps over me face, and a warm sensation fills me body. This could be home, not with a blood-born family, but a chosen one. This could be a life worth living.

I made the right choice then: to spin that stone, and send myself to another reality. Fate, maybe, or just a lucky chance – it doesn't matter. All that matters, is that I've found my family. I've found my home.

* * *

 **Here's your chapter, guys, as promised for every three days.**

 **I've a few quick questions to ask all you wonderful readers:-**

 _How are you finding the pace of this story? Do you want it to move an quicker, or slower?_

 _How are you finding my OCs, and their relationships with canon characters?_

 _Is there anything that bothers you, about this story?_

 **It'll be fantastic to get feedback from all of you.**

 **Thank you for reading; I hope you've enjoyed.**

 **I only own my OCs.**


	11. The Beginning

**The Beginning**

* * *

"One of the techniques we used was mediation. It worked pretty well for me … it might work good for you too … Vision had the idea … with that internet searching thingy of his … so, you wanna give it go?" Wanda's slightly bubbly, slightly nervous voice drifts over to me, with my eyes downcast, watching shadows on the floor.

"Are you sure it's gonna work?" I lift me head to look at Vision and Wanda, my tutors of calm. "I mean, I'm grateful for your help an' all … I'm just a little … Well, we used to do mediation all the time, as part of air-bending practise. I don't think it did anything then."

"We can try anyway, yes? It is better safe than sorry, as you say." Wanda's hands are twisting around each other, and she flicks a glance at Vision, asking for reassurance perhaps?

"Miss Maximoff found it most helpful for relaxation. I suggest we try to have the same effect on you, Miss Talbot." Vision chimes in his thoughts, gliding over to stand between us.

"Right. If you say so." I huff, sitting down on a mat. Wanda sits beside me, legs crossed. Closing my eyes, I try to think of serene and calming thoughts. All that is going through my mind is how boring this all is. I never really enjoyed mediation. I prefer to get and go, to adventure, to be active. It was only my shame and regret that kept me locked within my room. I am not a willing prisoner.

After a few minutes that feels like an eternity, I snap my eyes and groan. "Nope. I'm not feeling it; can we move on?"

Wanda sits in silence for a few moments more, her breathing even and measured. Her eyelids open slowly, and her hands twitch. "It's been three minutes. Try again. We won't get anywhere of you don't bother to try."

"I am trying! It's just – "I cast my mind around, hunting for the right word, "not very stimulating." Wanda raises an eyebrow. "Ok? It's plain boring. I thought I'd been done with it when I mastered the elements at 16. It didn't help me then, and it isn't helping now!"

My voice has been rapidly rising, and I'm practically shouting at her. With widened eyes, I stammer my apologies to Wanda. "I'm sorry … I really do appreciate the pair of you doing this for me; I just don't think this will work. Can we try something different?"

"Sure." Wanda stands, looking at Vision. "What next, Viz?"

"There are several methods we could try. Yoga, 'punching out the anger', writing down thoughts, humour, instructing yourself to calm down, developing a mantra – "

"Thanks Viz, we get the idea." Wanda cuts him off with a fondness in her eyes. My inner fangirl is itching to screech _SCARLET VISION_ at them, but I restrain myself. It wouldn't really help the situation. But I ship them _so_ bad.

"What about the physical activity one? If I run myself down, I won't have the energy for anger, right?" I contribute, eager to try something a little more interesting.

"I'm not sure … won't you have to be angry for that to work?"

"I guess … "I mutter, shrugging my shoulders. "But I could practice, regardless."

"You actually want to do physical activity?"

"Yep."

Wanda gives an odd look. "I prefer to not do more than I have to outside of training. It's like Sam and Steve, they don't need to go jogging, but they do anyways. I do not understand you people."

"I prefer it to mediation." I give her a significant look.

She scoffs at that. "Of course, you do. I happen to find it relaxing."

"Uh-huh … Are we heading outside then?" I wave to the doors leading towards the yard.

"Outside? Wh-why? Can you not exercise _inside_?"

"Sure, if you want the chance of burning down the room. I was going to try fire-bending; it is commonly fuelled by rage anyways." My lips move upwards into a grin.

"Fine. We'll go outside; you'd better not burn us." Wanda gives me a playful pout, and pulls Vision after her. I jog after them, feeling gooey inside at their adorableness.

But, before we can get out, an alarm bell rings through the building. Wanda winces. "Sorry, that's the, uh, Avengers Assemble alarm. We have to go; will you be okay by yourself?" I nod. "Great. See you … see you later then, I guess."

"Go avenge stuff, girl. Don't die." I reach out to hug her. After a moment, she pulls back, with an apologetic smile, and sprints from the room. Vision flies after her, choosing to phase through the wall rather than use the open door. And I'm alone. Again.

Still, I might as well try that 'physical activity to relive anger' technique. Proceeding outside, I shrug off my outer jacket. I won't need it – not with the heat I could generate. Plus, I don't want it to catch and burn. Loose clothing can do that very easily. I learnt that from experience. It's something I really don't want to repeat, like, _ever_.

Taking up a stance, I take a deep breath, focusing my energy on producing small amounts of fire. I don't want to burn this place down. That's definitely something I don't want to explain to the Avengers when they return from whatever mission they're on. I hope it hoes well.

I punch my right fist it, shooting a measured fire stream forwards. My blasts are focused towards the empty, grassy area just to the left of the tarmacked training grounds. Hopefully, the flames should die out before they hit anything. _Hopefully_. Using my other fist, I send another blast forwards, feeling the _whoosh_ at it speeds away from me. A fierce rush of power bubbles through me, and I laugh out loud. The power can be additive if they let it. I try not.

Pulling back from my stance, I straighten up, pushing my hands downwards, and breathing in rapidly. I breathe out my nose, producing tiny bursts of orange-red flames. My bending masters told us all that our 'breath of fire' could be lifesaving in the cold. I've never been able to test that. We rarely went far beyond the school compound, and the local market town. Even at twenty, I was encouraged to stay and teach (which I did, until that night in the basement, you know the rest) rather than forge a new life in the outside world. Besides, we never had any money; our multi-bender status would be the only thing to out us above others, but it made it more dangerous to live without the protection of the compound – countless multi-benders had been kidnapped and forced to work for city gangs. But that's a story for another time.

Bringing my body into a lotus stance, I kick my legs, one after another, forwards, leaving flaming marks on the ground. With a wave of my hand, I dispel the flames. But the scorch marks remain, staining the tarmac. I guess I'll have to leave them there. Maybe I can pretend they're tyre marks. But means lying again, and I've already done that too many times. I should always choose truth, over lies.

We should all choose telling the truth, over telling lies. The truth might be dangerous, but lies can be much more hurtful. Nothing is more dangerous than an injured creature. Injury makes you desperate; desperation makes you rash; rashness makes you make bad choices; bad choices make you dangerous.

Talking of bad decisions, I haven't been watching my body moving. Unconsciously, I've taken up a stance, both arms pushing a wave of fire forwards. The flames flicker over the grass, lighting the tips up. Panic runs through me, and I rush towards it. Sweeping my hands over the burning grass, drawing the fire up, and dispelling it. But I, in all my clumsy glory, trip over thin air, and land with my left shin too close to the dying flames. The red-orange tongues of fire lick at my skin, burning it away and leaving me screaming. With one final effort, I draw the last curls of fire away, leaving a streak of burnt and blackened grass. Like the scorched tarmac, it's a stain of the environment.

Well, at least I only burnt myself this time.

The skin is red-raw and blistering. It's not a particularly large burn, but it stings all the same. Cold water is supposed to be the best thing for it, but I don't really have any right here. Plus, the heat of my fire-bending might have burnt off any water moisture further. I could bend water from the plants, but I never really learned how to do that. They weren't so keen (at the compound) to teach us sub-bending styles. I managed to learn metal-bending from an older student when I first arrived, and my lightning-bending was picked up along the way. I'm still nowhere near proficient at that. It's hard enough to get a small bolt, even when fuelled by rage.

Still, I really should get myself inside. Gritting my teeth, I push myself to my feet, and gingerly able weight to my left leg. Hopefully the burn won't prevent walking, but it's gonna make it hurt. A lot. Maybe I should just hop instead. It might take longer, but I'm willing to do anything at this point. So, with my leg protesting at the movement, I hop my way forwards, towards the gym. They're only a few metres away, so it shouldn't be that hard – right?

Wrong. Apparently, I'm not very good at hopping my way across the tarmac. My leg wobbles, and I almost collapse again. _Keep going_ , I tell myself, _stop being a drama queen and walk_. I imagine what my friends would be saying to me: Beth would be laughing; Sophie would find something to solve the problem; Mark would crack a few jokes about _'_ _If you're a fire-bender, why aren't you burnproof?'_ ; Evan would help me along; and Jason would be filming everything for later. It'd be worth the burn just to have them all here right now. They're all training, over on a mission simulator somewhere. I haven't even touched on the tiniest bit of this compound. There's so much more here than I expected.

Once inside, I give up my feeble attempt at walking, and just scoot across the floor on my ass. The smooth wood makes it easier, and I'm soon whizzing up and down, propelled by a touch of air-bending. But my burn is flaring up again, and wiggle across the floor towards my locker. I stashed a few bottles of water in there, just in case. The only problem is standing up to reach the lock. Using the locker as a crutch, I drag myself up, standing on my good leg. As soon as I grab a bottle of water, I sit back on the ground, sticking my leg out for inspection.

The burn has turned a little redder, and stares out, angrily, from my pale-ish skin. Opening the bottle, I bend the water out, placing it over the burn. As my hands dip in the water, it starts to glow. My mouth gaps open in surprise.

"Huh … Never knew I could use water-bending to heal." I mutter to myself, awed at my discovery. Granted, I'm not ever going to get any good at it without a healing master, but I'm totally down for basic healing. If I had known that years ago … life would have been so much easier.

I sit there for a few minutes more, completely amazed at my now healed skin. The burn is gone, and only a faint white scar marks me as evidence of my injury. Pleased with myself, I head back to the Avengers' quarters (I still struggle with saying 'my'). Hopefully they'll all be back.

As I walk in, I notice the few who stand in the common area look very drawn and haggard. Something is wrong here … something is really wrong. The only one who looks up is Vision, so I move to sit by him.

"How … how did it go?" I mutter, casting furtive glances around at the others.

"Evidence suggests that Lagos did not go as planned." Vision states, fixing me with his gaze.

A sinking feeling runs through me. Lagos? Already? Then it's started; the Civil War timeline has begun. This is beginning of terrible things.

* * *

 **I know, I know - the chapter is up a day late; my internet was down for the past two days, and it's only been fixed recently.**

 **Well, the chapter is out now, so I hope you'll enjoy it.**

 **We've just initiated Ava's journey through CA:CW. Let's see how it works out for her.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **I only own my OCs. Unfortunately.**


	12. The Sokovia Accords (Part 1)

**The Sokovia Accords (Part 1)**

* * *

Lagos. The one event that I really didn't want to happen. The effects of the operation there are going to kickstart the Sokovia accords. Not good. Not good at all. I'm pacing my room, cursing myself for not trying to prevent this. I've seen the movie at least twenty times. But I was so caught up in my own problems, that didn't focus on what was coming. On what is happening right now. If I had just paid attention … well, I would've had to get involved in an Avengers mission, and I'm not an Avenger. Hell, I'm not even from this universe. But, as a 'superpowered' person, I'll come under the accords. If that's not a reason to try and sort this mess, then I don't know what is.

True, it will affect the world is things continue down the same road. If the Avengers spilt up, the world will be in so much more danger than ever before. I didn't have chance to see Spiderman: Homecoming before I took my impromptu journey to the MCU, and I certainly haven't watched Thor: Ragnarök yet (what with it not being out in my world yet), but I do know bad things are coming. The threat of Thanos, that the Avengers most likely don't even know about. It's tearing me about because I don't know the full story of what will happen. If I change things now, I've got no idea how it could affect the future. If I don't change things, other problems could occur. It's a mess – a tangled web of choices and secrets and lies. I could pull the wrong thread and make everything worse than bother.

There are so many things I need to remember: T'Challa and his family; the fact that the Winter Soldier killed Howard and Maria Stark; that Tony doesn't know that; Zemo and his plan; the army of hidden Winter Soldiers; Peggy's funeral; and so much more. It's burning me to have so many secrets and having to lie my way around. I could've told Sam about Civil War on my second day here. Maybe he could have done something. Maybe they could have trained Wanda more. Maybe they could have prevented Lagos from happening. For whatever reason, I ended at this point in the timeline. I must have a chance to fix things.

I need to … I need to write a list. Yes! If I can try and remember as much as I can, and write it down … it might make it easier to make sense of this situation. I just need to think clearer, and take a few deep breaths. It's no use freeing about it if I can't think straight. This mess might turn out alright in the end. There's supposed to be another two Avengers' films coming – in my world – right? So, everything should be ok for that. But the first Infinity War movie would be out next year if I was back home – I have no trailer knowledge to draw from, and they wouldn't let us keep comics at the school. I've got nothing to go on, to see if this situation resolves itself. I can only hope it does.

Hope is just about the only thing I can right now.

It's time to put my plan into action. I just need to find some clean paper. All the notebooks in my room are full, and the art book in the lounge is Steve's. I'm not going in there for two reasons: one, it's Steve's personal sketch book, and it's not mine to look in or even take from; two, I shouldn't be taking nice arty paper when all I need is some normal stuff. If I could just find it …

Of course, it's not that they don't have paper, they do. But everyone seems to have an office or a study, and keep their own stuff in there. This is such a simple, every day object, but I really need it. And I can't find any of it. The universe just hates me. Damn it universe!

I'm just gonna have to ask them. It's no big deal, expect … they still scare me. The only ones I really feel comfortable around are Sam and Wanda, Steve is ok sometimes, and Vision isn't bad company, but I'm still a little weirded out by the talking-walking android. I don't ever really talk to Rhodey, and Natasha is plain scary. If the other, original Avengers (Clint, Tony, and Thor) were here, I don't think I'd be very talkative. I might talk with Clint, but he's a spy-assassin, and is teetering close to the scary sector. Tony Stark is just … how am I, a totally random stranger, supposed to talk to the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist? I would just be so star struck (or is it stark-struck?) that I wouldn't be able to talk. Don't even get started about Thor. Even being in the same building as the alien would be completely mind-blowing. I grew up watching movies of these people, and I feel like I know way too much about them, and yet nothing at all. Movies are great at showing all the fun stuff, but they don't really deal with the people behind the persona. Nobody can be a superhero every day.

Skidding through the common area, I whiz by a window to see the team, gathered and talking to someone. I walk backwards, peeping back through the glass. The stranger's gaze flicks to mine, and I feel like I know that face. I just can't place it … He's got to be something to do with the accords, why else would he be here? But I just can't think how he fits into this. The man is talking to them, gesturing at me, just standing in full view of the window, and it clicks. It's Thaddeus Ross! My mouth gapes open, and I freeze where I am. The Sokovia Accords are already here, and I haven't warned any of the team of what's going to happen.

Without realising before it's too late, I've propelled myself forwards, entering the room. I suppose it's better than just running from view, which was my initial plan. I'm here now. Maybe I can talk some sense into them. Maybe I'll make everything worse just by being here. The government doesn't know about me; I don't exist here. As a superpowered individual, I'll be under the Accords, and I won't help the Avengers any by being here. Man, this is not going to plan. Not that I ever had a plan, but still – my mind imagined a different solution.

"Who is this?" Ross spews out, pointing at me. Rather rudely, might I add. If I were a wolf, my hackles would be raised. This man just reeks of unpleasantness.

"This is Ava Talbot. We … we discovered her a few months ago, and are in the process of training her." Steve states, before adding: "with us."

"And why was the government not notified about her presence at this compound? Is she even a citizen of the United States?"

"The government doesn't have anything to do with the running of this compound." Steve injects, rather coldly.

"Her status? Citizen or not? If she is an illegal immigrant, then – "A vein is pulsing in Ross's forehead.

"Um … "I start talking, timidly, "I'm from England. But – "I take a deep breath, steeling myself, "I'm not going to bore you with the long story. Basically, I messed with a magic stone, zapped from my universe - where all you guys are a series of movies - and appeared in this one. So, I know stuff. Like how the Accords are going to turn out." My chin cocks forward, and I try to look more confident than I feel inside. Inside, I'm screaming and shaking, wishing I could run from the situation. But I can't: it's not a movie I can skip to get past the bad bits, it's reality and there's no fast-forward. Or rewind.

"Look, even if I believe your cock-and-bull story about a 'magic stone' – how do you expect to believe that you know things about the Accords?" Ross gives me a patronising look.

Anger rises through me, and I clench my fists. "Alright then, don't believe the girl from two years into the future!" My hands shake, and the earth quivers beneath my feet. "I know that there's a secret prison, where you'll lock up superheroes without a trial! That you want government oversight, despite knowing that Hydra has been active, and could still be active now, within the government! That the Accords are terrible as they are, and really need sorting out!"

Ross has stepped back, staring at my hands. I look down, noticing the steam rising from them. The floor is still shaking, and I unclench my fists, gaping at them. I was bending without even realising it. I really need to get a handle on this. I turn and flee, completely ashamed by being unable to even control my temper and my abilities. I'm not making a good impression. As the door swings shut, I hear Ross make one last statement:

"You didn't mention she was enhanced; this is going to be interesting."

* * *

 **Hey guys, another late chapter I'm afraid.**

 **My mum's in hospital** **, so between visiting her and travelling there and back, I just don't have as much time for writing. I didn't want to give you guys a half-baked chapter, so it's a little shorter, but stretching over more than one chapter.**

 **Hope you guys have enjoyed, and thank you for reading.**

 **Reviews would be wonderful treasures.**

 **I own only my OCs.**


	13. The Sokovia Accords (Part 2)

**The Sokovia Accords (Part 2)**

* * *

As soon as I reach my bedroom, I slam the door shut, and bang my head against the desk. Repeatedly. Eventually, I stop, sitting upwards and allowing my hair to swing forwards. A red mark covers my forehead. I touch it gingerly, almost grinning at my own stupidity. But it's a warped grin, stretched and unnatural. It looks wrong on my face, like I'm trying to force happiness where there is only regret and anger. The corners of my mouth turn downwards, and hot tears drip down my cheeks. I whack my palms against the wood, standing up from my chair. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I storm from my room, intent of burning off some of my anger.

I stomp through the common area, ducking behind the sofa to hid from view of the conference room. There's an open area of ground, just behind the library, the side with no windows (that side is covered in bookshelves), but there's no door out. If you open one of the kitchen windows wide enough however – you can climb out. Well, it takes a fancy bit of manoeuvring and you have to be relatively thin. So, the guys couldn't do it very easily at all, but Vision could just phase through. Natasha is Miss Bendy, and I'm sure Wanda could fit. Still, it takes a nifty bit of movement and a touch of air-bending to clamber out.

Now I'm out, I set about making the right stance. Seeing as my earth-bending was a little, well, uncontrolled earlier, I'd better start working on that. If I'm going to be involved in this … fiasco, then I need to start gaining control over my bending again. I'll make everything much worse if I can't even control myself, let alone try and lessen the impact of the accords as much as I can. And I have to try … I have to try and fix this. I ended up at this point in time for a reason. There must be something I can do.

There has to be something I can do.

But right now, my brain is coming up blank for solutions. I'm trying, and trying to think: I just can't do it. I stomp my foot on the ground, lifting up a chunk of earth as I raise my fist. The earthen blob hovers from a moment, before I clench my hand and it drops to the ground with a crash. Swinging my body round, I bring a fist to the ground, sending a shockwave through the earth in front of me. Patio tiles shift and lift upwards slightly, forming a ridge leading outwards from my fist. Pulling back, I shift the earth back down, leaving the tiles in their usual places. Well, they're a little out of alinement, but it's better than nothing. You wouldn't notice it if you didn't look to closely.

There isn't really much more I can practice so easily without an opponent. Earth-bending is all about waiting and listening for the perfect moment to strike. It's defensive, but equally offensive against others. I just wish I had another bender to practice with. It would make everything so much easier, and I could really get a handle on my bending again. I wouldn't need to worry about them not being able to deal with it – everyone in my world uses bending all the time. Of course, there's only so much it can be useful for, but it's still a fundamental part of our lives. Here, everyone manages without it. I'm too lazy to have to get up to reach objects when I could just air-bend them towards me. Well, it's lazy _here_ , but back home – that's something every air-bender would do.

I miss my home.

Soon, though, I'm going to have forge my path here. I don't think there's any way for me to get back home. This place is my home now, and these people are my family. Now I just have to hope it doesn't get torn apart any more than it has to.

Jolting myself from my thoughts, I stick my upper body back through the widow, turning on the cold tap, and filling the sink basin with water. Once I turn the tap off, I wiggle outside again. Flicking my wrist, I bend the water from the sink, and coil it about my body is a levitating circle. Shifting my stance, I drop the water towards the earth, allowing it to sink in. Then, pulling my hands upwards over the damp patch of grass, I draw the water back out in an upwards stream. The water flows upwards, and I form a ball of water. With a burst of concentration, I freeze the ball into a solid chunk of ice. Only my concentration keeps the ice from melting in the hot sun.

Relaxing my control, I melt the ball back into water. Taking up a new stance, I separate the water into smaller droplets. Half of them, I drop into the ground once more, ready for later. With the rest, I freeze them into tiny shards of ice. I shift my weight forwards, propelling the floating shards forwards, slamming them into the wall opposite me. The force of my movement sticks them into concrete, but only just. After a few seconds, the shards shatter, leaving tiny splinters all over the ground. It seems like a strange likeness to the situation now. If we can concentrate hard enough, everyone can stick together. But if we lose sight of what we need to do, if we don't focus on keeping everyone together, then we'll shatter like the ice. We can't let that happen.

Shaking myself out of my stupor, I pull the rest of the water from the dirt. I need to learn better, close range fighting techniques. Water bending is great for fighting, but usually with other benders. People now don't fight like that. It's all guns and shooting and … and not like my style. However, there's a fire-bending technique where you can bend fire daggers. I can't do it with normal water, but maybe I can try with ice daggers. It could work … I've got to try at least.

Concentrating hard, I pull the water into my palms, shaping it into long, thin, rectangular streams, suspended in the air, clutched only my palms. I envision the twin fire-blades I can wield, forcing the same manner and form upon the water. Water is the element of change, and this will be a change of style for me. As the water freezes, a grin flickers over my face. I exhale a sigh, giggling in relief. Overcome by joy, I leap around manically, shouting out loud.

"Yes! Woo-hoo! This is amazing!" I turn my face skywards, shouting to the heavens. "Here I come!"

But my joy is short-lived, after a few moments the icy blades begin to sting at my hands. I drop them with a crash, rubbing my smarting hands together. Shards scatter over the ground. They're red-raw, and the cold was almost burning. I guess it's not that particular; water-benders can deal with ice, snow, and the cold, but holding icicles isn't really the best use. I guess I could try with gloves, but maybe I should stick with the normal ways of water-bending. Let's keep the testing new methods for when there isn't a civil war brewing.

After a while, I turn back to the opened window, intending to get back inside. But Wanda's head is sticking out the window, blocking the view.

"Oh … there you are!" She exclaims, brushing back a stray lock of brown hair. "I was looking for you … I used my powers to track your physic energy … What are you doing out here?"

"Uh … yeah … I was just …" I scuff my trainer toe against the tiles, looking down at the ground and then back at Wanda, "burning off energy. Is everything … is everything ok in there? With the … accords?" Striding forwards, I whisper the last bit to her, watching her face intently.

"Well, I wouldn't call it good. We are divided over whether to sign them or not. Tony, Vision, and Rhodey are supporting the idea of government oversight. Natasha is, too. But the others are not as supportive. Steve had to leave, I didn't ask why. Sam isn't for the accords, nor am I. But – "Doubt flickers over her face, "what did you think of them? You said you were from an alternate future, where we are all films, you know what the accords entail?"

"A little … "I murmur, hesitant, "Not enough, but something. They aren't … at the moment they aren't any good. The idea is there … and some things need to be completed changed … "I stop talking, clapping a hand over my mouth. "I shouldn't be saying anything. I must've already changed the timeline just by being here. I can't … I can't give any more details than I can help. I might change things … and … "

"Stop it. Things will happen how they will. Nobody can truly know the future. Some of the things you remember may never happen at all. Everything will be fine in the end." Her cautious tone suggests she's trying to convince herself, as well as me. I'm grateful for her words. I just don't know if they'll ring true.

"Everything will be fine." I repeat. "Everything will be fine … we'll all be ok … it'll be alright … everything will be fine." A weak, almost watery, smile appears on my face as I look over at Wanda. "If you say so Wanda."

"I do." Firm, assertive. Wanda still has hope. Of course, she doesn't know … not the stuff I do. She can't possibly know what's coming; none of them do. And I can't say anything. I mustn't say anything. I have to make the choice to lie and keep these secrets from them. I have to.

It's not a pleasant thought, but it's a conviction. A conviction is good, gives me something to focus on. And now, more than ever, do I need something to focus on.

"You coming in?" Wanda nods her head towards the interior, and leans back from her spot in the window.

In lieu of reply, I wiggle back through the window, clambering over the countertop, and landing on the flooring with an ungainly wobble. Promptly tripping and facepalming the floor, I push myself up, waiting for Wanda to lead me onwards.

"Where are all the others?" My voice echoes slightly in the emptiness of the kitchen. It's just me and Wanda in here right now. It's making me uneasy.

"I do not know where the Captain went. Natasha … I think she went to head to the signing of the accords. It's soon, in Vienna, I think. I don't know where the rest are." Wanda sounds conflicted as she talks, biting down on her lip as though she's hiding something. Or nervous about what she's saying. Maybe she shouldn't be telling me; I am an outsider after all. I may have lifted here with them for several months, but that does mean I'm one of them.

I'm an extra in a full cast. The spare part. Huh … well, spare part suggests I've been here all along, but I haven't. I came late to the party. And now I have to keep it from shattering. I need to remember everything I can. There has to something I can use, to change things.

Spying a notebook on the counter, I pull a pen from a draw, and begin scribbling down as much as I can:

· Zemo is posing as the Doctor person

· The Winter Soldier killed Tony's parents

· Bucky was brainwashed

· Super-soldier army

· Germany

· Siberia

· The Accords are a good idea, but need revising.

I set down the pen, gazing at my scrawls. It's not much to go on, and I'm struggling to remember how everything goes. I know there's a bombing at the UN meeting, but when? And Peggy's funeral … when does that happen? It must be soon … but then Bucky's capture and escape are coming soon. So, Zemo is nearly posing as the …

"Wanda, do you have any idea why Cap left? Did you sue your mindee-windee powers on him?" I blurt out at my slightly startled companion.

"Well … I … uh … I try not to … it just happens sometimes …" Wanda mumbles, looking abashed.

"Yeah, yeah, that's all fine – but did you, or didn't you?"

"Um … I think so … why?" She blushes scarlet.

" _Do you know why he went?_ "

"A-a text message … a message about someone … dying, I think." Her eyebrows crease into a frown.

"Right. We need to warn him – the doctor that comes to see Bucky isn't the doctor, it's a guy who wants to tear about the Avengers!" I half-shout, my breath coming all at once in a rush.

"A guy who – what? How are we supposed to warn him? If it's a funeral, it's not exactly practice to have your phone on, is it? What are you going on about?"

Just then, the T.V. in the lounge flashes with breaking news. There's been a bomb at Vienna. At the UN meeting …

We're too late.

The next stage in this civil war is coming. It's only a matter of time. And I still haven't … I still haven't found a way to stop it. I've messed up so bad. There were so many opportunities … if only I'd used my brain, if only I'd thought about what was coming … if only I'd tried more. This could have been stopped, prevented from starting. The problem could have been neutralised before it even happened. What if Lagos didn't happen? Would that have halted the approach of the accords? We'll never know now; it's too late, the moment has gone by, and we can't change the past. All we can do is move on, and make the best with what we have. It's all we can do.

* * *

 **Another day, another chapter.**

 **Hoper it's ok, please enjoy.**

 **Reviews are lovely gifts.**

 **I own only my OCs.**


	14. House Arrest

**House Arrest**

* * *

So, this is the part where things get really interesting. As it happens in my world, the world is blaming James Barnes for the bombing at the UN meeting in Vienna. I know it's not Bucky, but my word means fuck all in this universe. By rights, I don't exist here. There's almost nothing I could do to change things. By now, Steve and Sam will be finding Bucky, and the capture of one James Barnes will occur. But I can't even remember where that happens. Even if I could remember, I won't be allowed out. Vision is still here. So, we're under house arrest, Wanda and I.

Looks like it's back to the drawing board for plans to save the world.

Wanda has been a bit off with me, ever since I started spouting stuff about Zemo. She's cautious about my knowledge, and who wouldn't be? I'm a little – well, a lot – nervous about Wanda and her mind powers. She can know what I'm thinking before I even know I'm thinking it. It's kinda scary, but I shouldn't really be thinking about that. Wanda will know.

Needless to say, she must also know about where I'm from. That I'm telling the truth through my nonsense mutterings about the future. I really wish I was back home, and not involved in any of this. Sure, it'll be great if I can change this civil war for the better, but that's not looking likely. To be honest, I've no idea how to stop any of this. Events are all closing in at once, and I'm powerless to halt the tide. There must be some solution, some answer to these problems. I just can't see it.

A few moments later, I stop my pacing tracks in my room, and head back into the kitchen. Vision is busy cooking something – a present for Wanda. I'm not interfering with this moment, it's so sweet and just – ugh, Scarlet-Vision all the way. Still, I have to fill my water pouches, ready for the coming war. I'm gonna make sure that I'm there. I have to be in the action, or I'll have nothing to do at all. Maybe I can do something there, help slow the fight down.

Maybe there's nothing I can do, and it's all a foolish venture.

I shake my head, refusing to believe that I truly can do nothing. There has to be a reason for me being sent to a point in time before Civil war occurred. I got the chance to meet and interact with the heroes, and learn about the people behind the personas. Sure, I don't know an awful lot about them, but I got to see them working in a more domestic setting. I got to see the food fights, and petty arguments, and overly competitive games of Mario Kart. There's a real connection between them; a family there, even if they don't see that. Maybe I can't stop the inevitable, but I can appeal to what they'll lose if they spilt apart. Surely being together is better than being separate shards of a team.

But I'm being idealistic. That's never going to happen, not with two, strong-minded and stubborn leaders facing off against each other. It'll never work. I just … I want everything to be the way my head imagines it. The accords are altered for the better, and the worst parts scrapped. The team is together, and working to be better than ever before. The world won't fear their heroes anymore. And everything will be perfect.

Reality doesn't agree.

This is the real world, and none of that will ever happen. Even if, by some lucky chance, I make it to the fight in Germany, what will I do there? I can't just expect them all to sit down and have a chat. Steve and Bucky will want to be off, and the others won't think too kindly to the idea of talking it out. It didn't work in their earlier discussions, it won't work now. They're a volatile group, and sparks can easily be lit.

It's not they don't get along; they do. But a bunch of strong-minded, powerful individuals with a range of ideals don't make discussions easy. There was also going to be something they couldn't agree on, something that could tear them apart. And it's happening right now. There's so many factors coming into play, factors that they don't even realise will be instrumental in their separation.

Choices, secrets, and lies.

That's what it's all about. The choice to sign or not. The secret of the death of Tony's parents. The lies to try and protect those they love. It's the things that, when combined, will tear the Avengers apart. I can't stop them from their choice, and it's not my secret to tell, but I don't have to lie anymore. From now on I'll tell as much of the truth as I can. It's not gonna be easy, but it sure as hell isn't as bad as lying for the sake of it. Sure, the truth is a dangerous weapon, and I'm not going to walk around spouting everything I can scrape together from my brain, but I am going to tell as much as I can. Hiding the truth can almost be as bad as lying, even if it's for the right reason. The person you're hiding the truth from won't always see it that way.

By now my water pouches are overflowing, as I stand at the sink, lost in thought. Luckily Vision – completely engrossed in his cooking – hasn't noticed me. I switch of the tap, and flee the area. I don't want to be here when the adorable Scarlet-Vision moment starts up. I don't want to alter such a cute moment, just by being in the way.

Just then, I hear Wanda's footsteps, approaching the kitchen. I run for the lounge, vaulting over the sofa, and crouching against the cushions. Wanda hasn't noticed, and instead moves straight over to see Vision.

"A pinch of paprika. A pinch." Vision is muttering to himself. I can't see them, hidden behind the sofa as I am, but I can recall glimpses of the scene. Vision must be checking the recipe book by now.

"Is that Paprikash?" Wanda's inquisitive tones drift over to where I lay, hidden from view.

"I thought it might …" For once, Vision seems to falter in his words, "lift your spirits."

Wanda replies in an almost dry tone. "Spirits lifted."

"In my defence, I haven't actually … eaten anything before, so …"

"Aye, aye. Please."

"Wanda." There's an undercurrent of urgency in his tone, running through like a river of steel. _Or vibranium_.

"Hmm."

"No one dislikes you, Wanda."

"Thanks."

"Oh, you're welcome. No. It's a... involuntary response in their amygdala they can't help but be afraid of you."

"Are you?" She sounds almost … nervous. As though his answer is very important to her. From what I've seen of their interactions before, I'm sure it must be.

"My amygdala is synthetic, so …" Vision trails off, as though uncertain if he's saying the right thing. Well, he hasn't been around that long, and he's not human. I'm a human, but I sure as hell don't understand people any more than the android does. He probably understands them more.

"I used to think of myself one way. But, after this. I am something else. And still me, I think. But... that's not what everyone else sees."

"Do you know, I don't know what this is. Not really. I know it's not of this world. But it powered Loki's staff, gave you your abilities. But... its true nature is a mystery. And yet, it is part of me."

"Are you afraid of it?" A hint of curiosity underlines her words, but there's concern too. She truly cares from him. And it'll hurt even more for what she has to do later. It must break her heart.

"I wish to understand it. The more I do, the less it controls me. One day, who knows, I may even control it."

"I don't know what's in this but it is not paprika. I'm gonna go to the store, I'll be back in 20 minutes." Wanda changes conversation at the speed at light.

"Alternatively, we could order a pizza?" Vision's not-so-subtle attempt as dismissing her attempt to leave charges the air with tension. The atmosphere is quickly growing uncomfortable. I peek my head over the edge, peering at them.

"Vision, are you not letting me leave?" Fire charges her words, a fierceness awakening in the Sokovian girl.

"It's a question of safety." That, Vision, sounds all too much like the good old _'_ _It's for your own good'_ excuse. A typical fall-back for humans, and apparently androids.

Wanda's reply is curt, cutting straight to her point. "I can protect myself."

"Not yours. Mr. Stark would like to avoid the possibility of another public incident. Until the Accords are a... more secured foundation."

"And what do you want?" This time, her words sound softer, as though she is beseeching him to give her the truth. She wants his thoughts, and no lies. Unfortunately, secrets and lies seem to the currency of this world … for most people at least, but not for Vision.

"For people to see you... as I do." With those words, a silence lapses into the space, ending the conversation.

It's all coming now, the rushing climax of the civil war. The battle at the German airport can't be far away now. I have to find a way to be there, even if it means sneaking into whatever transport Hawkeye brings, or asking Vision to lift me in. I have to be there. It's my chance to talk to Tony, and try and stop any more damage from happening. I have to give him a warning of what will be revealed at Siberia. I just don't know how to do that without fanning the flames anymore.

War is coming. It's up to us to keep it under control.

May cool heads prevail.

We can only hope.

* * *

 **A bit of a short chapter here, but not much happens in this scene.**

 **I didn't want to change it much (I'm trying to stick to canon where possible), so it's shorter than most chapters. I used a transcript of the scene from the internet for the speech. Ava doesn't see most of it play out, and I didn't want her presence to have little influence of this scene.**

 **Hopefully you can enjoy this latest chapter.**

 **We'll be moving on to the next phase of Civil War soon enough.**

 **I own only my OCs.**

 **Plus, I hope Ava is coming across as decent character for you guys, and not a Mary Sue. Please tell me if she is, and if I'm writing a little OOC for any canon characters.**

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **I would also like to thank the viewers of this humble story. As I'm writing this, we've got over 3,110 views. That's brilliant, and so much better than I expected. So a massive shout-out to you guys, and anyone who reviewed, favourited, or followed this story. You guys make it worth it.**


	15. Rescue

**Rescue**

* * *

Here we are. The big one. It's coming … oh boy, the fight is coming. I can feel the pent-up energy buzzing the air, tension so thick you could slice right through it. I'm shaking with anticipation, waiting for the moment that it all begins, and the civil war really starts. Because it's coming now … soon. It has to be. I don't remember the timings from the movie, but I know that Hawkeye comes soon, and takes Wanda to the fight.

I suppose, now that I'm here, he'll have to take me too. That, or I get Vision to give me a lift. Which … isn't all that likely to happen, if I'm perfectly honest. The former is the most likely option, but even then, it's a fair reach. An impossible leap. Well, almost impossible. Wanda could sway my favour; I know her, a little at least. Maybe she can convince him. I'm pretty sure that Clint won't just let me tag along just because I say I need to. No. That's not happening, not for a million years. I need to convince him, without seeming threatening for my knowledge.

That's not gonna be easy.

For starters, most of the stuff I can remember seems a little too invasive. About what Loki did, and his family. I need something else. Something less personal, but still memorable. Which … leaves me at a blank. I don't remember shit that'll fit that criteria. So, weird creepy stalker information it'll have to be. Of course, assuming I manage to keep my composure, and not spew out a string of random details. I bet that's how it'll go. It always does end up like that. I can't talk to scary people like him and Natasha. Not easily at least. It's a wonder that I manage to form coherent words, let alone hold a conversation.

Needless to say, I need some practice on not being scared by assassin-spy-people. Which … well, it'll only improve through actually talking with one of them. But I don't really want to do that. And I'm off-topic again, aren't I?

I'm not sure where Vision and Wanda are, but they must be in the common area despite the late hour. Clint should be arriving soon, and I really need to get in the same place as them. I have to go with them to Germany. So, using a little air-bending to keep my movements light, I sneak into the main room, ducking behind a sofa. Voices drift over. The darkness makes it difficult to see, and I'm not making any fire right now. It's too bright, and I'll be found out. As much as this scene as possible needs to pan out as it does in the movie. Wanda has to leave with Clint, and Vision has to be incarcerated (sadly).

It makes me feel sick to the stomach, thinking about people as characters, moments in time as scenes. I shouldn't be treating people like I know their every move. That I can make changes as I will. It's like playing god and I hate it. _I hate it_. Every single time I choose to change something, just because I know how it should happen feels like a punch to the heart. I shouldn't be doing it. I try hard not to … but it's so easier when you know what they'll say before they say it. This must be how mind-readers feel; knowing everyone's thoughts before they even have chance to think it. It's a stab to the stomach every time I change something. Playing with people's lives … it's like being a supervillain, controlling the population.

A struggled sob escapes me. It's a sorrowful, wrenching noise that tears at me, drowning me in guilt and tears. This knowledge is changing my heart and my actions. I'm changing things I shouldn't and … I want to stop, but the desire to fix everything is greater. _They're not major changes_ , I tell myself, _it's to make everything better in the end._ But does the end justify the means?

Someone better than me could answer that straight away: no. Someone good, and pure, and just maybe Captain America. But I can't. All I think is of the terrible things that might be avoided. My mind prompts little questions, nagging thoughts that light the flames of my good heart. _How will they feel about you messing with the timeline?_ They won't be happy; who would? But I have to. _I have to._ I need to make them see. I need to sort things out. I need to build the happy ending they deserve.

But my heart tells me no, stop what you're doing. It's better to remain neutral, to allow everything to pan out. I shouldn't meddle with other people's lives.

The voice grows stronger, and my will hardens. I won't change everything. I won't do that to these people I now call my family. I won't play puppeteer in control. But I will try to soften the blows, the hurts of the coming pain. I might not be able to change things, but I can make it less painful. I can try and make it easier for them to draw back together after the separation. I will do that much, but no more. I will not take control over something I have no right over.

Resolution found, I turn my attention back to listening for the voices. Expect this time, there's three, not two.

"Oh my god. What are you doing here?" Wanda's clipped accent rings out clear, as I sneak closer.

There's an almost visible shrug in the air as Clint replies, "Disappointing my kids. I'm supposed to go water skiing. Cap needs our help, come on."

Through the darkness I can make out three shapes. There's Wanda, standing next to the man I recognise to be Hawkeye, and Vision a few steps away from them. Not far from my position, there's a knife lying on the floor, silver blade glinting in the faint moonlight.

"Clint! You should not be here." Vision's voice sounds eerily loud in the stillness of the room.

"Really? I retired for, what, like 5 minutes? And it all goes to shit." There's nothing but a snarky attitude in that reply. I bet he's raising his eyebrows. If only I could see all this properly.

And Vision replies, in that calm and collected 'I'm a British butler' voice. "Please consider the consequences of your actions."

"Okay, they're considered." He half-turns to Wanda. "Okay, we got to go. It's this way."

I don't know Clint Barton, but I am just loving the sassy attitude here. Man, I totally want to be friends with this guy, if I could just get past that scary assassin-spy bit. That probably will never happen. Shame.

"I've caused enough problems." Wanda sounds small … almost afraid. As if the weight of souls of anyone who's every died 'because' of her are being carried on her shoulders. It's heart breaking. She's a kid really, maybe a couple of years younger than me. But she's grown up so much faster, and had her childhood ripped away from her. No one deserves that. No one should ever have to go through any think like that. And yet … it still happens; and most of the world is too blind to see it.

"You got to help me, Wanda. You can go to high school. You want to make amends. You get off your ass. Shit. I know I should have stretch."

Something must be moving; I'm sure they're moving around. But I can't make out the shapes well enough. I would crawl closer, but I don't want to give myself away too quickly. Vision has to blasted by Wanda before I make my move, or he might try and stop me too. I can bend metal, but I don't know if that applies to something like vibranium. I don't think I could overpower like Wanda does without burning him to ash. Which I don't want to do, because Vision is freaking awesome. But he's a hindrance to my escape plan, so he to be taken out by Wanda before I reveal myself. Timing is everything.

"Clint, you can't overpower me." The matter-of-a-fact tone is his voice is rather cold, and it shocks me slightly. I didn't think the android could be like that. It sounds even worse in real life, rather than the movies.

"I know I can't. But, she can."

"Vision. That's enough, let him go. I'm leaving."

Through the darkness I can see the red tendrils leaving Wanda's hands, enveloping Vision in her power. In this moment, I truly feel like she is Scarlet Witch.

"I can't let you."

"I'm sorry."

"If you do this, they will never stop being afraid of you." It sounds like a desperate plea, which I guess, it kinda is. Vision is reaching out with his last chance, grasping at straws to keep her to stay. But the bird has already opened the cage, and won't stay behind. It wants to fly free.

"I can't control their fear, only my own." With that, she slams Vision though the ground, sending him down through many layers of earth and rock. The ground quivers with her power, and I stumble from my hiding place.

Both step back in surprise, casting me suspicious glances. Well, Clint is, but Wanda's gaze is slightly softer. Slightly.

"Uh … " I wave one hand at them, picking myself up from the ground. "Eh … yeah … I, um … " I scratch the back of my neck with one hand. "I want to go with you. To Germany."

"Who the fuck are you?" Clint spits out, raising his bow.

I let out a squeal of panic, raising both hands up. "I'm Ava Talbot. Long story short – I fiddled with a magic stone, blasted to an alternate dimension, and landed in a lake at Central park. And … I know stuff about what happens here … because … because you guys are movies in my world. I know that … that … " I struggle to find the right thing to say. "Wanda tried to show you a vision when she worked with Ultron but you stuck an arrow on her head." I blurt the last bit out, biting on my lip, and feeling sweat drip down my forehead.

His grip tightens. "How the hell did you know that?"

"Like I said … alternate dimension." I nod towards Wanda, hoping she'll back me up.

Wanda steps forward, questioning written all over her face. "But why would you want to come?"

"I … I know what will happen. I want to try and … I have to try and make it better … things could end up going … going very wrong, and I have to … " I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, "I have to stop them from going too wrong … " I trail into silence, cursing my fumbling speech. That'll never convince them.

But Wanda mutters something to Clint, and he lowers the bow. "Wanda tells me you could be very useful to us. How?"

"Uh … I guess she means my abilities." He says nothing back. "They mean that I can control fire, water, earth, and air. But also, some sub-groups, like metal, and basic water-bending healing. Stuff like that."

"Really. Well, we need all the help we can get. We could do with some more firepower like Wanda." Clint states, gruff and decisive.

"Great!" I clap my hands together.

"Oh... Come on. We got one more stop."

Together, we turn and leave the great crater, Vision, and the compound behind. We're off to war, and we've gotta wear a uniform. I picked my outfit earlier today (or is it yesterday) in preparation. The three of us are going to join Team Cap, and fight Team Iron Man in a Germany airport. I don't really want to fight, I just want to get close enough to Stark to tell him what I know, or immobilise everyone so they'll talk.

It's an almost impossible task, but worth trying. The almost makes it worth a shot.

* * *

 **All the speech that is canon is from a full transcript I found online. If any is wrong, please tell me, so I can change it.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Thank you to the over 600 viewers since I posted the last chapter.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **I own only my OCs.**


	16. Suit Up

**Suit Up**

* * *

The ride over was – interesting for lack of a better word. We picked up Scott Lang, and dumped him in the back of the van. The faint snoring coming soon after indicated he'd gone to sleep. I envied him. I'd been all night prepping my supplies, and making sure I was ready for when Clint arrived. I don't have a super suit, you see, so I've had to make do.

After convincing the Avengers that I needed a tac suit for training in, I added that to my costume. It's similar to Natasha's – a bulletproof jumpsuit, but with short sleeves, and not so tight. With a pair of knee-length, black leather boots, and a cropped black leather gilet on the top, my outfit was nearly completely. My water pouches (1 for each hip) were crafted from the same black fabric as the jumpsuit. Finally, metal gauntlets, engraved with symbols for each element, were fashioned for my exposed forearms. The same symbols were stitched into my jacket: red for fire; blue for water; green for earth; yellow for air.

Wanda reckoned that I need a superhero name. I disagreed. I haven't even done anything here at all, that could count as superhero stuff. In fact, this is my first time out of the compound for a mission of sorts. My first time to put all that training to use. And it's against half the team. Just brilliant.

Still, time to look for the Brightside of things. I'll probably get captured with the rest, and sent to the Raft. When Tony comes to – what? Talk with the others, I'll try and give him a subtle warning about the film he'll see. Maybe if it's less of a shock, there won't be such a dramatic (but understandable) reaction. That's all the plan I have, so I've got to hope it works. Fingers and toes crossed.

* * *

Jerking awaking, I peer through bleary eyes at the scene unfolding in front of me. For some reason, I'm now in the back of the van. Scott is still asleep, but that's soon to change. I jolt myself upright, and start smoothing down my hair. The others don't know I'm here; they're just expecting Scott, unless Clint and Wanda have told them. Either way, I need to be ready.

The door is pulled open, and sunlight pours in. I snap my eyes shut on reflex, blocking out the blinding light. It takes a few moments, but I get used to it, to see Scott climbing out the van muttering.

"Captain America." He steps forward, arm held out to Steve.

Steve acknowledges him with a curt, "Mr. Lang."

They begin shaking hands, with Scott rambling like an excited fan. I swear, that would be anyone's reaction in the fandom. Although, now I'm here, do I still count as part of the fandom if it's now my life?

"It's an honour. I'm shaking your hand too long. Wow. This is awesome. Captain America." Scott points at him, an ecstatic grin over his face. "I know you too, you're great. Jeez. Look, I wanted to say. I know you know a lot of super people, so... Thanks for thinking of me." He gestures over to Sam, standing nearby. "Hey, man."

"What's up tic-tac?" Sam nods over to Scott.

"Good to see you. Look. What happened last time was a …" He sounds a little flustered, gesturing his arm out towards Sam.

"It was a great audition, but it'll … it'll never happen again." Sam swiftly closes the conversation, and there's an undercurrent of annoyance in his voice. There's some secret here, and he's not telling the team. I bet Antman kicked Falcon's ass; I never got around to watching _Antman_. Shame. I could've had some good teasing material. Oh well.

The Captain steers the talk back to the matter at hand, "Did he tell you what we're up against?"

I push myself upwards, leaning a little out of the shadowy interior of the van. It's this I really need to listen to. The details and stuff that I always forget. I can remember the basis, and the main sequence of events, but not much of the nitty-gritty fact stuff. Something I need to get better at.

"Something about some … psycho assassins." Scott seems a little uncertain, and frankly, so am I. I remember there's a hidden bunch of people like the Winter Soldier, but are we going there to stop them? How did the rest of the team get involved, and why an airport? Don't they have other jets they could use, that aren't found at German airports? Couldn't they have discussed this, and then used the Quinjet?

Then again, discussion didn't really work so well about the accords. They're a bunch of fighters, and they're used to using force over words. The sword over the pen. Maybe when fighting enemies, the sword is mightier, but with friends? The pen is better. Words over force. However, it's not what they're used to, at all. This is the way it happens. I can't change that. Much as I don't want it to, this Civil War has to happen. Unfortunately. My heart is breaking right now. None of them deserve any of this. The universe can be cruel.

"We're outside the law on this one. So, if you come with us, you're a wanted man." That doesn't really answer the question. Well, strictly speaking Scott made a statement, but it sounded hella like a question.

"Yeah, well, what else is new?" There's resignation in his tone.

Bucky makes a quiet statement. "We should get moving."

I creep closer to the edge of the van. Sometime I'm gonna have to climb out, and explain my presence here, but it never seems like quite the right moment. I'm not sure I want that moment to arrive. Then I'll have to explain to the Avengers' why I sneaked into their secret war (not that they know it's fighting yet) and I'm not really part of the fight. I need to come up with a better reason than 'I want to fix the future, and stop you lot for making a mess'. That's not going to go down well, nor is it easier to explain. Maybe I'll take a leaf out of Cap's book and talk about wanting justice. Or I'll just bumble my way through like usual. The latter is more likely.

Meanwhile, the conversation has moved on without me really paying attention. Cursing myself, I refocus on the talking.

"Suit up." Cap gives the order, and everyone moves off, preparing to change.

My left foot catches on the seat I'm crouched on, and I tumble forwards, landing on the asphalt with a thump. Puching myself to my feet, I stand, a little awkward, shifting my weight from foot to foot, and giving a little wave.

"Um … Hi?"

Sam walks over to me, eyebrows raised in surprise. "And I thought we were bringing just one other recruit." Warmth seeps into his eye, and a small smile peeks at his lips. "Nice to see ya, Ava."

I nod, taking a big gulp of air. "You … you too. I would've said but … well, I couldn't really get out of the house."

"Least you're here now. Hopefully it won't come to fighting, but it'd be nice to have ya here."

"It does … "I clamp a hand over my mouth, blushing something furious. I keep nearly spilling information I shouldn't have. Damn it.

"What does 'it' do?"

Ah. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. Another lie, or an awkward truth. But I promised no more lies, no more secrets. That was my choice. I've got to live up to it now.

"Come to fighting. Unfortunate … I know that. But it does." I rub my left arm, keeping my gaze on the ground. "I shouldn't really be saying anything else. It might change the future if you know what happens."

"Don't worry. We've planned for all eventualities." Sam winks at me, speaking in a tone, half-serious, half-playful. "It'll be fine."

"Sure. It'll be fine." I repeat, trying to instil that same confidence in myself. It's not easy when you know what's coming. I guess it should be easier, but I'm not aiming to change events too much. Just … to make them less. Less painful, les destructive, less … just less.

"That's enough chatter for now. We need to be ready." Steve injects, guiding Wanda towards the van so she can change in private. Everyone else starts to change where they are, and I can't help but roll my eyes. I always wondered what happened between Steve saying 'Suit up' and everyone being ready. At least Cap has the decency to let Wanda change in private. Not everyone nowadays is bothered by that. Too many scantily-clad people in the media these days, I suppose.

Sighing, I take an earth-bending stance, moving my arms in a diagonal gesture upwards. Half-a-dozen earth tents pop up from the ground, providing cover for change. The guys turn and look at me, and I just gesture towards the tents. This way everyone can change in private. And I don't have to keep staring at the ground.

Soon enough, everyone's ready in their battle gear. I've been wearing mine ever since Vision and Wanda had their 'during house arrest' talk. I needed to be ready from when Clint arrived. It's only been a few hours though, and it's not smelly. I promise.

Apparently, positions for everyone have already been decided. I'm to go with Sam and Bucky, into the – I dunno, terminal building? I think that's what it is. I've only been on a plane twice, so I haven't much experience there.

Truth be told, I'm a little nervous about going with them. I'm fine with Sam; we get on okay, I would class us as friends. But Bucky? It's a different story when I'm getting consumed by feels behind a computer or TV screen. It's not like being here in real life, and meeting the person who's been further 70 years of torment, but is standing here, not looking a day older than when he 'died'. I know it's the same 'really 100, but looks 3' thing with Cap, but I've lived in the same building as him for a few months now. You get used to weird, wacky, and frankly strange. I don't really know anything about the person Bucky, just the cold hard facts. Strictly speaking, I shouldn't even know them. So, I'm not really sure how to approach this. We'll be fighting though, so there's no time to dwell on that.

There's a war coming. And I'm fighting in it.

 _May the odds be ever in our favour._

* * *

 **Hey there. I couldn't resist adding a little Hunger Games reference in at the end. It seemed to fit.**

 **As stated before, all canon speech is from an online transcript of the scene. This chapter is shorter, but it is a shorter scene. I wanted to follow the timeline as accurately as possible. Plus, I didn't want to break up the two stages of the airport fight (before and after Vision turns up) into three chapters, instead of the two-parter I have planned.**

 **Hope you've enjoyed.**

 **We're moving into action territory now. I hope that'll be good enough written for you guys.**

 **Feel free to critique my work (constructive criticism though), or just post any old thoughts on this humble lil' fic of mine.**

 **I own only my OCs.**

 **P.s A huge thanks to all you viewers. Since my last posting, we've gone up about a 1,000 views. Which I'm over the moon about. I'm sad that this fic might be closing up in just a few chapters. You'll have to tell me if you want a sequel.**


	17. Civil War (Part 1)

**Civil War (Part 1)**

* * *

Sam, Bucky, and I are racing through this terminal building, hunting for the Quinjet. Once we find it – assuming we do indeed find it – we'll be able to head to Siberia and find the super soldiers. That's the plan, at least, the one that they cooked up. Unfortunately, that's not ever going to happen for the majority of the team. As Clint said – wait, no, that's wrong … I'm getting my timeline mixed up here – as Clint will _say 'if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it.'_. Which is exactly what will happen … has happened ... I dunno, but that's the way in went in the movie, and I'm trying not to change everything too much. So, they'll still end up in prison, and most likely, me too.

I'm okay with that. Really, I am. If events follow how they should, Tony Stark will come for a visit, and that'll be my chance to warn him about the video. Sure, it's cutting it a little close, but I can't exactly go tell him in the middle of a fight between everyone. That'll probably make things way worse. Which I don't want. I want them to be better. So, a message in prison it is.

There's nothing to worry about – being in prison, I mean. As long as my hands and feet are bound, I'll still be able to bend the elements. If there's metal bars, then I might just be able to control them, and break out of the cell. I know they've got glass (which makes them more like display cages than prison cells in my humble opinion), but can be smashed in I can bend the bars the right way. I've got a plan. Everything will be fine.

Well, not really a plan. Just a vague idea of what I'm doing. I'll try to get to Siberia, but I don't know I'll manage that. Even if I tell Tony about the video footage, he still could be as anger and emotionally charged as before. It's a perfectly understandable reaction – to have a friend not tell you something important, and to have the person who murdered your parents in the room with you. It's a case of 'I didn't tell you, to protect'. However, as everyone knows, those scenarios never work out the way you hope. The other person always finds out, and they're always angry and upset about it. Anyone would be.

Of course, this time, it's all being orchestrated by Zemo. The release of the accords, and the UN meeting made the perfect moments to have 'Bucky' bomb the meeting, and cause Steve to want to find his friend. The accords caused an original rift, and the whole deal with Bucky widened it. Now, with the information about what's in Siberia, Zemo made the perfect battle ground for the Avengers. To tear them apart. It's all so clever, and thought out. Not like super villains that lay down their plans, and monologue them for the brave hero. No, this villain is one that actually succeeds. Well, he will succeed if I can't find a way to change things. I've got my half-baked plan, and a whole load of 'make it up as you go along' as my weapons.

So, it begins.

* * *

As we check through the hangars and various buildings, I spy the action going on down below. Just as I slow, in order to see better, I watch as Spider-Man swings out of nowhere, grabbing Steve's shield, and webbing his hands up. It was a good flip, but I feel like I can almost hear his flustered-sounding comments from up here; I've watched this section of the film so many times. I would stay and watch, but we've a Quinjet to find, and Sam is yelling at me to get a move on.

Thing is, I know we'll find it. Waving him off, I tell him to check Hangar Five, and tap the side of my nose in conspiracy. I already know where the jet is, so why not sped time up a little. Well, not by much. We're at the other end to the jet, so it'll take a little while to run over there. I'm planning on staying here, and watching everything else unfold. Those two don't need me anyways. I'd probably be more of a hindrance than I help.

Still, while I'm not doing anything, I decide to braid back light brown locks into a simple braid down my back, so it won't get my way. That's the disadvantage of long hair with fighting. It's wonderful for feeling all soft and swishy, but a pain for fighting. It's also easy to grab onto, and use as a weapon against yourself. That's something I learnt with all the sparring practice over the last few months.

Don't give your opponents any easy advantages. It's not worth the risk to yourself.

Just as I refocus my gaze on the others on the ground, Scott does his Ant-Man thing, and transform from tiny to normal size, hitting Spider-Man, and returning Steve's shield to him. I lean forwards, eyes glued to the scene in front of me. It's coming soon. The first half of the fight is about to begin.

I say first half, but the thing doesn't really stop. I just prefer to separate it into pre-Vision-arrival and post-Vision-arrival. It makes it easier to focus on, that way. The actions before, and the actions after. After is the key part – the deciding part of the fighting. The first section is mainly separate fights, leading into to a main fight. But the second part is about getting to the jet, even more so.

I'm rambling on a bit, aren't I? It's a speciality of mine.

Tony, in his Iron Man suit moves off, towards the parking deck where Wanda and Clint are hidden. It was Clint's arrow that cut through Spider-Man's webs earlier. Good shooting. I wonder what the arrows are made of, to be sharp enough to do that. Was it a knife arrow? I bet Clint has arrows for every situation. Maybe even a pizza or sandwich arrow. Food is always needed. Aaaaand I'm going on and on again … Back to the fighting.

Just before I tear my gaze away from the fighting, I notice Rhodey moving on to Steve, and Scott fighting with Natasha. Personally, I think Scott is very brave (or very stupid) for taking on Black Widow. Even in a sparring environment, I really didn't want to fight her. Maybe that's her secret. Terrify everybody, and then you don't need to fight them. They'll stay out of your way. It's a good plan, but I doubt I could ever employ it. I'm just not very scary, especially to people who know me.

After a few moments of running, I've found Sam and Bucky again, as they run through the terminal. I greet them with a brief smile that ghosts over my face, before quickening my pace to run alongside them.

All of a sudden, a figure wearing a red, blue, and black suit swings onto the building. Spider-Man, right on schedule. I'm a little – well, a lot – iffy about fighting this kid, since I know he's only about 15. But, then again, he has been fighting in Manhattan a lot longer than I've been doing proper sparring, and has abilities making him stronger than most of the adults here. I'd say he can hold his own.

Whether I can hold my own – that's a different question. To which, I'm hoping the answer will be yes.

As we run, I hear Bucky mumble out: "What the hell was that?"

Sam looks up, and continues moving. "Everyone's got a gimmick now." He really doesn't sound impressed. It's just like, he's so done with everything, and really can't be bothered to deal with everything. Man, I'd laugh if I wasn't running.

Spidey swings into the building, smashing through the glass, and kicking right into Sam and I. The blow hits Sam, and sends him crashing into me. Both of us smash into the ground, lying against a glass wall. There's a clang as Bucky swings forward, ready to smash his fist into the kid. Spidey catches it, before exclaiming:

"You have a metal arm? That is awesome, dude!" Spidey seems all too excitable.

Pushing off the ground, Sam engages his wings, running straight at the kid. Lifting them up, Sam hangs on as Spidey punches at him. Bucky and I make chase after them.

As we catch up, Spidey is winging from the rafter, and Sam flying through the open space provided by the terminal. Using air-bending, I boost myself onto cross-bar. I fire a quick blast of air at him. Spidey falls from his perch, flicking his wrist to get the ebbing needed to catch him. He turns around to squint at me though those strange goggle things. While he's distracted, Sam shoots a missile at him. Spidey jumps off, leaping to another bar. I drop to the ground, taking a stance to keep the metal from falling on my head.

I raise my head to see Bucky ducking behind a display cylinder.

"Hey buddy, I think you dropped this." Spidey's voice calls out, just as the sign slams into the cylinder. Glass scatters over the floor.

Bending the water from my pouches, I form a water whip. I flick my wrist towards the kid, slicing through the bar below him. He tumbles to the ground. Leaping up, I sprint forwards, gritting my teeth. Spidey webs up my hands. The water crashes back to the ground.

"How are doing that?" He swings to a bar above me, looking down. There's a distinct inquiestive tone to his voice.

"I just am." I reply, struggling in the webs. "This stuff is odd … and sticky … and really unpleasant."

"Huh … who are you? Never seen a superhero who can control water and air."

"Oh … it's a lot more than that buddy. Y'know, it's a good idea to be aware of your surroundings in a fight." I call up, just as Sam swoops in for a Falcon Kick.

The blow shoots him through the air. He recovers quickly, firing a blob of webbing at Sam's jetpack. The wings retract, and Sam crashes into the ground. As he struggles up, Spidey attaches his wrists to the glass barrier. Sam moves against them, looking in amazement. I move closer, trying to find the best angle to strike at our adversary. Spidey hangs from one of those cylinder things (seriously, what are they called?), striking up yet another conversation.

"Are those wings carbon-fibre?"

Man, that kid needs to learn when is and isn't conversation time. The middle of a fight really isn't appropriate. Still, at least it's him wanting to learn, not an evil villain monologue. It's the small mercies.

"Is this stuff coming out of you?" Sam calls back, an incredulous undercurrent to his voice.

Spidey seems to ignore that, and continues talking, as though to himself. "That would explain the rigidity flexibility ratio, which – gotta say, that's awesome man."

"I don't know if you've been in fight before … but there's usually not this much talking."

"Oh … alright, sorry … my bad." Spidey mutters, swinging forward on a fresh – I dunno, squirt? – of webbing.

Out of nowhere, Bucky launches forwards, covering Sam's body with his own. Spidey kicks at them, sending the pair of them crashing into the tiles below. With a few quick motions, the two of them are webbed up and trapped. I watch them, debating my next actions. They must free themselves: the two of them are involved in the next section of fighting. So, do I attack at the kid? Won't I get webbed up too?

Ah … Screw it. I sprint forwards, leaping up, and inhaling a massive breath of air. As I land, I turn towards Spidey, releasing all the pent-up air. The blast spirals towards him, knocking him backwards through the air. Satisfied, I drop to the lower level, running forwards towards the others. I begin tugging on the webs, trying to pull it off them, but to no avail. Maybe if I was super strong, but no, I'm not. There's always burning the webs, but I'm not going to risk burning them.

With my attention on the trapped duo, I don't notice until the sticky webs are encasing me, that Spidey has swung back into action. My back slams into the ground, landing a few feet from the others. I growl to myself, thoroughly embarrassed by the situation we're in. If someone were to come through and … no. The place has been evacuated, and we're alone with just the ten (soon to be eleven) of us in the whole airport.

A few moments pass, and Spidey has since gone. All of three of us have been wiggling in our bonds, trying to escape from the sticky stuff.

"Well … shit. This isn't looking good." I mutter, casting a disgruntled look at the stuff. Maybe if I give it a Black Widow scary stare, or a Captain America 'I am disappointed in you' stare, then it'll give up. Well, I can hope, right?

Time rolls on, and my mind is running blank for solutions. We can't have been here for too long – no more than five minutes I'd wager, but it feels like forever when you're trapped. Giving in to frustration, I focus on heating up my hands, pinned to either side of me. I concentrate on all my anger, and push the energy towards my palms, building up the flames. With a scream of frustration, the flames burn through the webbing shooting out to either side of me. I spring upwards, allowing the fire to die, and rubbing my wrists. Both Sam and Bucky are giving me somewhat nervous, but somewhat awed looks. I shift awkwardly, embarrassed by my outburst.

"Dude … Talbot, don't just stand there – get us out!" Sam shouts, giving a half-playful, half-serious raise of the eyebrows.

"Sure thing, Wilson. Just … just don't get burnt, yeah?" I mutter back, bending a pair of fire daggers into my hands.

After Sam braces himself, I swipe at the webs, cutting through them after three tries. The edges of the webbing are burnt, blackened and crackles away easily. I move onto to Bucky, careful not to get too close to either arm. I'm still unsure about this guy. Most of the people I'm fighting with, I know, as people, not movie characters. But I only know Bucky as a character, so I'm not too certain what to make of him. But if the others can fight with him, so can I.

* * *

Since freeing ourselves, the three of us have moved out into the main airport. We run forwards, seeing Cap wave all of us forwards. As we run I hear Clint call out:

"There's our ride." I don't have to look to know he's refencing the jet, hidden in the hanger as spotted by Sam with Redwing.

"Come on!" Steve shouts outs, encouraging us forwards.

The others are lined up, on the other side of the airport – the one we need to be getting to. They seem to be exchanging wary glances, as we run forwards, conviction flaring up within us. Personally, I've got a hint of tiredness flaring up within me. Not all of us are enhanced beings with a super stamina. Ahem, super soldiers. Still, all that training has helped, and I've lasted far longer than I thought I would.

But, before we can reach the opposing team, a beam of yellow light blasts through the tarmac, halting our side in our tracks. Here comes the next stage. Here comes another player. Here comes … Vision.

* * *

 **A day late, but I didn't want to give you a half-baked chapter. I'd been up really early yesterday (and a late night's rest), so was completely exhausted. I didn't want to give an incomplete chapter, so I took an extra day to work on it a bit more, and get it to the right point.**

 **I watched the parts of the scene I needed over again, and used the online transcript for parts of the speech I couldn't directly remember. If there's any errors, feel free to tell me, and i'll get them fixed ASAP.**

 **Hope you've enjoyed.**

 **I wanted Ava to be in the fighting, but not completely altering everything. So, she doesn't do an awful lot, but don't worry, there's more coming up soon.**

 **I own only my OCs.**


	18. Civil War (Part 2)

**Civil War (Part 2)**

* * *

Descending from the sky above, like some avenging angel, Vision is swooping down over us, looking very much like a disgruntled god, here to fix the sins of his worshippers. Well, it certainly looks that way. With that golden cloak, blowing in the wind, and that angelic position, he seems every bit the angel sent down to doom us foolish humans. I'd laugh, if not for the sobriety of the event. He's one of the most powerful players here (I'd rate Wanda as the most powerful), and he's fighting against us. But we've got six fighters to their five, so it should be more even. _Should be._

But … the scale of this fight seems laughable. There's eleven people having it out in an airport. Eleven. It's not exactly the battle of the ages, if not for the skills and abilities of the individuals here. Given the right amount of time, any one of them could demolish this place. I guess I could, too. It's a scary thought, knowing that you can wield power than can be destructive and deadly, but also constructive and beautiful. Do bad things need beautiful covers to hide them away from the truth? Is everything beautiful, deadly as well?

Fire can be life, warmth, and preservation, but also death. Water can beautiful, quenching, and wonderful, but also death. Everything has a dark side. I don't want to know what mine is. It's a hidden part – the most desperate part of ourselves – and only comes out when the light can't cope. It's raw emotion: uncontrollable vivid, and wild. Something more deadly than any weapon, any poison, any creature of this world. It's humanity without the restraint of society, the hidden side of us, the other side of the coin. It's the Mr Hyde to the Doctor Jekyll we try to project every day. When someone snaps, their dark side is more fearsome than anything you can tell me. I firmly believe that for your dark side is something seemingly completely opposite to who you are as a person. Like for someone who is always selfless, they take the selfish route for once. A kind person becomes the meanest one there. An optimist takes a dark outlet of everything. The world reverses, and everyone sees the part of them that even they didn't know was there.

I'm sucked out of my thoughts by the sound of pounding feet. Everyone is running forwards again, and I force myself to move with them, urging my body to pick up the pace. It's a blur of moving bodies, weapons, and attacks. Steve is using that shield to block repulser blasts and hits from the Iron Man suit; Wanda was propelling herself into the air last time I saw here; Spidey is blasting webs everywhere. It's a mess, chaotic and crazed. How ever did they end up like this?

The fights are slowly dispersing, twos and threes engaging all over the airport. In one direction, I can see Clint and Natasha exchanging blows, with the latter quipping "We're still friends, right?"

T'Challa is fighting with Bucky, the pair of them performing some incredible feats of strength. Those claws are brilliant, but terrifying. Angry cats are bad enough. Pissed off Black Panthers in vibranium suits? It would make anyone turn to jelly, and just run. I'm glad I'm not fighting him. Maybe I could control the metal of the suit and claws, but I'm not so sure. It doesn't work as well with purer metals, like platinum. So, the rarest metal on Earth (even if it's considered fictional in my world) should be impossible to bend. I should have tried on Vision before we left. Oh well.

Vision, War Machine, Iron Man, and Falcon are now flying all over the place. Sure, it's only four people, moving a few metres above the airport, but they can fly much higher. Which makes it much more painful when one of them falls.

Somewhere, near one of the airplanes, Spidey is exchanging with Steve. The two dudes in metal suits are laying blows down on Sam.

Over the comms, I can hear Sam's curt request:

"Clint, can you get him off me?"

My own attention is pulled away by the nearness of T'Challa. I take a stance, directing my fists upwards, and pulling a chunk of earth up, forming a block between us. Then, by shoving my arms downwards, I make an immediate ditch, five feet deep and six feet wide, on my side. That should slow him, hopefully, however briefly. I turn my back, and sprint in the other direction, aiming to put as much distance between us as I can.

Scanning the battlefield for potential battles, I spot Tony's suit stopping in mid-air, one of its repulser failing to fire. A smirk coats my face as I remember Scott's remarks from watching the movie _("It's your conscience. We don't talk a lot these days."_ ). Ah … good stuff. It's better when you're not involved, though.

Spinning in a circle, I form a tornado-like swirl of wind around me, lifting me up, and moving under my direction. I move forwards, following the flyers. With a few swift motions, I aim several punch-fire-blasts at both Rhodey and Tony. Heat skims back at me. They dodge the blows, flames licking at the edges of their suits. I drop back to earth, as repulser blasts skim over the space where my head once was. Phew. That was close.

Hiding behind a bunch of crates – somewhat near Clint, from what I'm getting with limited 'shoes on Seismic sense' – I focus on all the conversation going on over comms. Which, I often wonder about. I mean, are both teams on different channels? Did they decide before fighting? Can they hear each other?

"I'm gonna draw all the fliers. I'll take Vision. You get to the jet." That's Steve. He must be talking to Bucky. I think that's what going on, but the hectic nature of this battle makes it difficult to remember where everyone is, even though I've watched it multiple times.

"No, you get to the jet! Both of you! The rest of us aren't getting out of here." Sam there. It's true enough, though. To win this, not everyone can get away Scott-free. And Scott certainly can't. Hehe.

Clint pitches in his two cents. "As much as I hate to admit it, if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it."

"This isn't the real fight, Steve." Sam. Again.

"Alright, Sam, what's the plan?"

"We need a diversion, something big."

"I got something kind of big, but I can't hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half, don't come back for me." Scott's plan is a good one, and I absolutely loved watching this moment in cinema.

Despite myself, I squeal out my excitement over the comms. "Oh man, I love this bit! Can't believe I get to see it in real life!"

There's a few moments of radio silence, and I blush crimson, fidgeting with my sleeves, and cursing myself inside. Someone mutters a quiet:

"What does that mean? Who even was that?" I think that sounds a little bit like Bucky, but I'm not sure. It could equally be Scott, but we did talk a little on the drive over. Before we fell asleep of course.

"Um … Sorry 'bout that. I just … "I stammer out, trying in vain to explain myself, "Look, it's just awesome, okay? You'll … you'll see."

I jump from behind my hiding place, dodging stray blasts and attacks, making my way to the main airport area. Just then, Scott emerges, in his giant-man form, and grabbing hold of Rhodey.

"Holy shit!" Spidey exclaims, as he swings by on his webs.

"Okay, tiny dude is big now. He's big now." Rhodey's somewhat surprised response echoes over the airport, and I giggle to myself. Oh man, this part is better than I ever expected.

I air-bend myself onto of a nearby aeroplane to watch everything unfold. With a few moves, I aim fire blasts at the fliers and Spidey. Maybe I can't help much, but I can help Scott distract. And the risk of getting set on fire is a pretty big distraction; it's not quite turning from ant-sized to a giant, though. I'm doing my small bit, but I don't want to change the outcome of this fight.

Then again, events have pretty much been following as I expected. Maybe … well, maybe they're fixed points in time. Continuities that have to happen in every version of reality. In some different versions, maybe there's other people, or a slightly different location, or different weather. But everything has to be the same. I'm just an additional piece, a spare part, that doesn't have much influence. I'm here, but I'm unable to majorly affect any events. Sure, my presence has started other conversations, and my knowledge has prompted some questions, but I haven't actually done anything that contradicts the timeline as I know it. It's just … got a few extra parts, that's all.

But this doesn't bode well for Siberia. If I'm not really having a big impact, then how am I supposed to stop one of the key points that ultimately leads to widening the crack between the Avengers, instead of helping them reconcile. No … it really doesn't look good. I've got to assume that still happens, but I have to try and reduce it. I need them to group back together quicker, and be ready for when Thanos arrives. If I can lessen the hurt, then maybe, just maybe, I can lessen the time gap.

There's a lot of ifs and maybes with this. I just have to hope I can carry it off.

The voices, over the comms and echoing over the airport, make me jump, and send me back down to reality. There's no time for deep thoughts in a battlefield.

"Give me back my Rhodey." Tony Stark's words bring a smile to my face. Man, I love those little one-liners. Whatever else you can say about these guys, they have some funny lines.

Scott is going on destruction spree, throwing airplanes and vehicles all over the place. Sam just did an awesome Falcon-kick on Tony. Spidey has caught Rhodey from his throw, slamming into a truck to keep Rhodey from having an up-close look at the side of an aeroplane. Steve and Bucky must've cleared off by now, heading for the Quinjet.

Realising what's coming up, I run forwards, dodging between the fights going on near Scott's legs (Clint and T'Challa), heading towards the hanger. Anytime now, Vision is going to collapse the tower. I might be able to help Wanda lift the rubble, or at least stop Rhodey from stopping her. Here goes nothing.

All around, shots are coming from Rhodey, Tony, and Sam's suits/jetpack-wing-things. Dust and rubble is spraying up everywhere. I have air-bend a cloud of dust from in front of me, just so I can see where I'm going. Fire from the damaged jet engines are wafting up huge flames. In the middle of my run, I stop and diffuse one, not wanting there to be any more damage than there already is. But, my small contribution won't make much difference. There's already thousands, if not millions of pounds worth of damage.

"Something just flew in me!" Scott's panicked statement has me sprinting forwards again. Any time now.

I run forwards, boosting myself forwards with air-bending jumps, and land next to Wanda. She nods at me, hands and eyes tinted with red swirls. All of a sudden, a crashing noise has me looking back up again. I spin round, watching as Vision slices right through a control tower, his yellow beam of destruction doing an efficient job. Steve and Bucky slow to a halt, just as scarlet tendrils curl forwards, lifting the tower up. Beside me, Wanda grimaces and twists in attempt to lift such a heavy object. Rhodey lands nearby, his suit letting out some sort of sonic pulse. Wanda twists, screaming in agony, and the rubble slips from her grasp. I step forwards, trying to bring out the 'Avatar State'. My eyes start glowing a soft blue. I reach out, air-bending the rubble up for a few more seconds, before I have to let it drop. The resounding crash echoes around the airport, and I drop to my knees, exhausted.

But Rhodey is still there, ready to strike us while we're weakened if he needs to. Summoning the last dregs of my energy, I metal-bend his suit, seizing control of it. He jerks in surprise, and I push him back, towards the main fight. Then I collapse, letting go. He flies off, heading near to Scott.

After a few moments rest – as much as I feel I can take before heading back – I run back into the battle. My side aches, and my limbs feel heavy, but I carry on. No rest for us. We've got to keep going. We need to give Steve and Bucky time to fly off in the jet. Which, I assume, will only take a few minutes, but you never know. There could be other problems.

There's another crash as Scott falls to the ground (limbs tangled by webbing), promptly followed by a dry remark:

"Does anyone have any orange slices?" He disappears from easy view as he shrinks down to normal size. I lift my gaze from him, and carry on charging through the battlefield.

The whizzing sound as the Quinjet flies by sends me tumbling into a whole new panic _. Rhodey's gonna fall … he'll be alive … but Rhodey's gonna fall._ With a goal set, my energy is renewed, and I launch myself forwards, using air-bending to quicken my pace. If I do nothing else today, then I want to try and catch Rhodey, and save him the use of his legs. Maybe I can … I don't know. But I have to try. These people don't deserve to be hurt. Maybe I can't change anything much here, maybe my being here is just a flux, maybe I'm going to fail. But I have to try and do something. If I don't, then I'll have failed by default.

I'm getting closer to the grassy area, my feet just brushing the first tufts of grass, when I see the beam of yellow mind stone-ness shooting forwards. I have to go faster. I can't be too late. Adrenaline pumping through me, I charge forwards, hoping to beat the time it takes him to fall. I've got to do this.

Up in the sky, I can see the beam hit the front of Rhodey's suit, right on the arc reactor. He starts falling, and soon enough, Sam and Tony are diving as fast as they can after him. I wait below on the ground, tapping my feet, and trying to slow down my panicked breathing. I can do this. I have to do this.

Rhodey's falling even faster, reaching terminal velocity. Soon, too soon, he'll come crashing down to Earth the hard way. I take a deep breath, forming a stance, and getting ready. I need to catch him at the right point. Too early, and I might not be able to bring him down safety. Too late, and he might still crash into the ground. It's all about timing, waiting and listening – neutral jing.

Prepping myself as Rhodey falls ever closer – Sam and Tony diving just a few feet too high to reach him – I move my hands, building up a swirl of air to cushion his fall. I've seen people do a similar thing before, but to push people safely to the ground, instead of catching them when falling. I just have to adapt the technique. No sweat. Just hopefully stopping someone from being paralysed. No problem at all. Not. But I can't afford to panic; I make mistakes when I panic. _Just stay calm Ava_ , I mutter to myself, _then everything will be ok._

I can hope.

My eyes begin to water as I stare, unblinkingly, as Rhodey falls. _Any minute now_ , I keep thinking, _any second now, and I have to act_. That is one thing I determined to do: act. There is nothing worse than watching something and being unable to do anything about it. I can do something; I will do something.

About 30 metres from the ground, Rhodey is still free-falling towards the unforgiving earth. I take my stance, shooting up tendrils of air to wrap around the suit, and cushion the fall. If I were nearer, maybe I could metal-bend the suit to a halt, but he's not, so this will have to do. The air currents wrap around the limbs and torso, slowing the descent. My arms ache, and I bite my lip in concentration. I have to do this. But I'm so, so tired, and it's so hard to keep this going. I must, though. I _must_ do this.

Letting out a scream of frustration, I pour my energy into slowing Rhodey's descent. Wind whips my hair into a cloud of light brown locks. My whole body burns. The world is blurring, and I think I might pass out. _Concentrate. Just a few more metres. Then it's over._ I give myself a quick pep talk, needing to keep myself focused.

There's about 8 metres left to go, and my concentration slips. I can't keep it up, and some of the air dissipates. It's closer than falling from his height in the sky. Hopefully the suit should prevent any major injuries from that height. But still, falling from that height can kill if you land in the right (or rather, wrong) way. Pulling on whatever reserves on energy I've got, I put one last-ditch attempt into slowing the fall. About five metres from the ground, I reach out again, slowing his fall from another few seconds.

Then I collapse, letting him go. I lay on the ground, flat on my back, staring up at the blue sky. It's pretty cloudless. My frazzled brain just sighs, and lets me lay there, completely exhausted. I'm done my bit. This was contribution. My one, and only, kind of hero moment. Here's my change to the timeline. A, hopefully, not seriously injured Rhodey. It's not much in the grand scheme of things, but to one person, an act of kindness can be all they need to do there. Maybe we can spread kindness across through the little things – not massive gestures, or wars on behalf on other countries, but the small acts that inspire the ordinary people. That's what we need.

There's two thumps as Sam and Tony land.

"RHODES! Read vitals." Desperation resonates through Tony's voice, and it makes my heart swell. I just hope I've done enough.

"I'm sorry." Sam sounds sincere, and … wait – didn't he have a friend that died, when they were flying? Riley, wasn't it? I push myself upwards, tears swimming in my eyes. That must've been horrible for him. He's already seen his best friend die from a fall. He really doesn't need to experience another. There's so much more to everything than I could ever know.

Tony just stares at him. Well, at least he isn't firing a repulser blast this time.

Sam offers me a hand up, and I accept, pushing my limbs into working again. I'd happily just lie on the ground again, but there's no rest for the wicked. Plus, I've got to know if Rhodey's okay. Seeing what Sam did, in an effort to prevent Rhodey's fall, really smacks home the whole impact of this 'Civil War'. If the people you're fighting against still care enough to stop your death, it's not a broken relationship. It's just bent, and needs a little work to fix it up. I hope they'll remember that, when it comes done to the fixing.

"Is he ...?" I cough, trying to get my words out. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah. He'll live." Tony looks up at me. "Thank you, whoever you are. I couldn't catch him, but you did. Thank you for saving my best friend." There's almost no touch of arrogance in this voice, just sincerity and thankfulness. There's a lot more to Tony Stark than any of us give credit for.

"I was just … "I gesture to the scene, "I know how it would've ended. How it ends in the movie version, from my universe. I wanted to try and stop that, if I could."

"How … how does it end? From your universe." He's almost choking up, raw emotion halting his way with words.

I shake my head, not wanting to cause anymore hurt. "He doesn't die, if that's what you mean. And … "The words come, hesitant but strong, bursting forwards without my control, "don't blame Vision. It wasn't really his fault."

Sam puts a hand on my shoulder, smiling down at me. "That was some pretty wicked stuff there, Ava. You did good, kiddo."

"Still not a kid." I glance up at him, a half-smile ghosting over my lips. "I'm twenty, not ten."

"Sure thing. You're still younger than most of us." He gives a small chuckle.

But my use of so much energy is catching up on me. My knees buckle, and my vision darkens. I manage to mutter one last word, right before I blackout.

"Bugger."

* * *

 **Late again, I know. But this chapter has had so much extra work put into it, so should be well worth the wait. We stand at 3,585 words of story - a 1,000 more than usual. So, it should be worth that extra day of waiting.**

 **As stated before, any canon speech is from watching clips of the scene and conferring with an online transcript of the scene. Please call me out on anything that doesn't seem right - excluding, of course, any part that is alerted by Ava's influence.**

 **I hope you've enjoyed reading this story. But with only a few chapters worth of the events of Civil War to go, I have a question for you guys (which I shall be making a poll for).**

 **Do you want a squeal? Or do you want a series of one-shots and short stories on Ava's experiences before and after the events of Civil War?**

 **I may even do both, if I get enough requests. Of course, they won't both be on at the same time, or maybe alternate updates on either fic. Still, it'd be great to hear from you fabulous readers.**

 **As a matter of readers, we have 5,000 views on this story now. Which is incredible, and far more than I ever expected. So thank you, you wonderful readers. You made this possible.**

 **I own only my OCs.**


	19. The Raft

**The Raft**

* * *

I jolt upwards, head spinning and heart rate accelerated. Harsh white light pours in through a glass side to the – wait … glass?! There's metal bars, stretching horizontal across the glass-fronted sided. This isn't my room, back at the compound then. It's … it's got to be a cell. And there's one place that I know has glass fronted cells – the Raft. The prison for enhanced individuals. The prison for us. I wonder if the glass is Hulk-proof. It's seems like something they would do – especially if Ross is as much of a Hulk-hater as he seems to be. It won't be easy getting out, and even if I could find a way to break out the cell, I would be hard pressed to get out of the building. And then … well, and then I'd be left to find a way across the oceans to find land. No, my only chance is getting out is telling Tony enough information that I can convince him to take me along to Siberia. Once there, I have to find a way to stop the three of them from having an all-out battle. Maybe they'll still spilt up, but at least they'll be less hurt there.

It's the small blessings.

Still, I've nothing much to do for the time being. My hands aren't bound, nor are my legs. That's a positive among all this badness. A light at the end of the tunnel. But the hardest part of the journey is still before me, and I must find a way to succeed. Else all my efforts will have been in vain.

And yet … I'm in the best position to work from. I know Tony comes here, and I know he leaves for Siberia afterwards. Those facts are important. If I wasn't here, I'd have to find a way to Siberia by myself. Which … would mean turning up 100 years too late, frozen in an iceberg. Or maybe not that extreme, but it still wouldn't be everything I need it to be. So … convincing someone you fought against to trust your alternate universe knowledge and take you to a secret base is the plan. The only plan I've got. If this doesn't work … looks like I'll be sticking out this Civil War in a prison cell. _Yay_.

Two hours later, and I'm bored out of my mind. The blank white walls are mind-numbingly dreary, and the harsh lighting makes it difficult to try and sleep the dull hours away. The others seem to be just as restless – pacing cells, doing workouts, and constantly shifting position. Well, all expect one – Wanda. She's restrained by a strait jacket, and what looks like a shock collar of some kind. Her cell is opposite mine, but she isn't responding to any of my attempts at communication.

But then it hits me. Of course, she won't. Those bastards will shock her if she so much as twitches a finger. They're terrified of her, and have restrained her like an animal, as though that will save them. They might as well be standing there with a cattle prod held to her neck; that's basically what the shock collar is. But they won't even do that. I can't decide what's worse: the treatment of Wanda, or the way the idiots thought that it was an appropriate way to treat a human. An actual bloody human being! Just the same as any of them; the only difference is that she has a special skill set. Loathing is seething through, a bubbling pot ready to boil over.

I'm going to teach them a lesson when I get out.

Or … maybe not. I mean, how better to enforce the view that enhanced or superpowered individuals are a threat to society. I just have to calm down, to keep my emotions under control. We can't afford another hot-headed person in this team (however strained it is right now) of volatile, and slightly dysfunctional, but wonderful people. If I can just remember those techniques that Wanda and Vision taught me … until our lesson was interrupted by the Lagos mission.

Thinking about that won't help me right now. Looking to the past can be great for learning, but I need to focus on the future. That's the key point at the moment. The pieces are all coming together, and we're getting closer to the epicentre. Zemo. That little bastard who thought it was justifiable to try and tear the Avengers apart. I know, I know – his family died, and I can't begin to understand how horrible that must've been. But he's not the only one to have experienced that. There will have been hundreds of families torn apart that day, despite the Avengers' best efforts to keep every life safe. It's not easy to be a hero; I can see that. I can also see the anger of the public. It's true – oversight is needed, but the right kind of oversight. The Sokovia Accords, as they stand, are not anything good. Especially seen as they were delivered with a three-day deadline of sign or retire. Completely ridiculous, utter bollocks.

The Raft is just another part of the mess. A prison for enhanced people. Villains. Not the superheroes who fight them. Because what happens when you lock away your protectors, without trial, without reason. And then treat them horribly, and borderline torture them. Do you think they'll still protect you, when you need it? If the whole world begged for their help, would they give it? I don't think so. Maybe some villains are the heroes that the world was cruel to … they decided to stop helping, and start hurting.

That's not something this world needs, not with Thanos coming.

I'm so lost in thought that I haven't noticed our visitor. Tony. He's passing in front of each cell, exchanging words with each occupant. Trying to find Steve and Bucky's locations no doubt. I wonder if he realised that this prison he helped with, would soon hold his friends. I guess not. Hopefully he didn't – doesn't – know what they're doing to poor Wanda. That would raise awkward questions. I hope Vision doesn't know, either. I can fully imagine him swooping down here, blasting away with his gem, and saving Wanda from her torture. They still care for each other, but there's pain, anger, and shame as well. They deserve happiness – all of them too.

"Criminals? Criminals, Tony. I think that's the word you're looking for. Right? It ain't used to mean me, or Sam, or Wanda. But, here we are." There's a twinge of regret, but also annoyance in Clint's voice. I think he's in one of the cells alongside mine. Regardless, I can't see him to read his expression.

"Cause you broke the law," states Tony.

"Yeah …" Although I can't physically see him, my mind's eye is conjuring a sneer over Clint's usually warm features.

"I didn't make you."

"The law. The law."

"You read it, you broke it."

"The law. The law. The law." Clint repeats, in the same monotonous voice. Like a broken puppet.

"Alright, you're all grown-ups. You got a wife and kids. I don't understand. Why didn't you think about them before you choose the wrong side?"

"You better watch your back on this guy. Chances are he's going to break it," Clint mutters, an undercurrent of fire sparking back through his words.

Tony moves on to the next cell, a torrent of mixed and mingled emotions across his face. I can't imagine how it must feel. He thought he was doing the responsible thing – agreeing to oversight. But half his friends, his family, decided he wasn't making the right choice. Now he's looking at them in prison cells, instead of enjoying time with them. Part of me agrees with his choice to sign the accords. Oversight is necessary. But I can see the other side too. Steve and Sam both have only recently dealt with the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D had HYDRA hidden within them, and likely within governments across the world. That wouldn't make anyone keen to have their actions controlled – possibly – by the people they're trying to take down. Add a bunch of super soldiers into the mix, and you've got yourself some complicated situation soup.

Not delicious.

"How's Rhodes?" Sam's question jolts me to reality once more. The reality of Rhodey's situation, and the situation of – well, just about everything right now.

"He's alive. There's some damage, so we're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So … Fingers crossed." A flash of hope lights Tony's face briefly, before fading into the mask. "What do you need? They feed you yet?"

"You're the good cop now?" Amusement and disbelief dances through Sam's tone.

"I'm just a guy who needs to know where Steve went." My ears perk up at this, and I press my face against the glass, straining to listen in.

"Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you would have to go Mark 'Terminal' on my ass to get information out of me."

"Oh, I just knocked the 'A' out of their 'AV'. We got about 30 seconds before they realized it's not their equipment.

"Just look. Because that is the fellow who is supposed to interrogate Barnes. Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong."

"That's a first."

"Cap is definitely off the reservation and he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well. You don't have to … "He trails off, hope peaking in his face once more.

"Hey. It's alright. Look, I will tell you. But you have to go alone and as a friend."

"Easy." Confliction runs through his face. "But I want to bring her." Tony turns and points to me.

I jump back from the glass, staring at him. My face gapes open, and I struggle to process his words. Wordlessly, I point to myself, mouthing "Me?".

Sam turns, peering at me too. "Why? How is Ava helpful … in this situation?"

"Um … yeah, why … why me?" I call out, utterly nonplussed. My brain has been busy constructing lots of persuasive points as to why Tony needs to take me. I was not expecting this at all.

Tony answers Sam's questions as though I'd never even spoken. "She knows stuff. How else would she know where exactly to catch Rhodey? And what would've happened if he wasn't caught. I'm betting she knows how it'll turn out when I go meet Cap and Barnes. I need her." Tony shrugs.

"And convincing Ross to let one of us 'dangerous' beings out, huh? How'll that work?"

"She said she was from an alternate universe, yes? Then she shouldn't show up on facial recognition, or the list of enhanced. They don't even know what she can do, just that she was there, at the airport. I'll just tell them she's a civilian that got caught in the crossfire. Simple." There's a tiny smile on his face that is kind of smug and a little arrogant.

"And she is standing right here. With a name, y'know?" I cross my arms, glaring at the pair of them. "It'd be nice be involved." I huff, still fixing my eyes on them.

"Right. Well, I've got work to do." Tony stalks out, back straight and rigid. The pose of someone with a goal.

To be perfectly honest, I've no idea how Tony is planning to pull this off. Convincing Ross of all people that I'm just a civilian, and he needs to let me out? Now really any better than any of my plans. Okay, so maybe it's better than some of my plans. Well, most of them. They all seemed to involve attempting to break out the cell, and sneak onto the helicopter Tony flew here on. Which, is seeming even more ridiculous the longer I think about it. Stupid, really. I should leave the planning to the experts. I'm no strategist, not by the likes of the Avengers. I'll leave the world-saving plans to them. Or what'll be left of them.

Half an hour later – by my estimate; I don't have a watch in here – Tony turns up, with Ross and four armed guards. A fifth guard (about thirty years old, with dark red hair) opens my cell, casting me a suspicious look, doubt clouding her dark eyes. I jump up from my bed, stretching my limbs, plastering a grateful smile over my face. _You're just a civilian, you're just a civilian_ , runs through my head, a mantra to keep me focused. I have to seem as innocent and un-superheroey as possible. Well, the latter part is easy; I'm by no means a superhero. Just a young woman with some fancy abilities. Nothing more.

We're marched from the cells, and I cast a nervous glance through the opening door. Acting on impulse, I latch my gaze onto Wanda's, sending her my apologies for my freedom and her restraint. I don't deserve to be free, and she doesn't deserve to be trussed up like an animal. We have to fix that as soon as possible.

As we reach one of the hangers, Ross turns to me, a sickly smile spreading over his pasty face like an infection. "I do wonder how a civilian got caught up in such a situation?"

"Wrong place, wrong time. That's all." I mirror his own expression, blinking my eyes at him. "I never expected that to happen."

"It's funny. But there's no record of an Ava Talbot bearing your appearance bordering or off-bordering a flight from or to that particular airport. Care to explain?"

"I was waiting," my mind races to create a lie, and I cock my chin forwards, stubborn, "for a friend. She was coming back in … from Munich."

"Really. And you live near Leipzig-Halle Airport, do you?" Disbelief resonates through his words.

"No. I was staying in a hotel. We were heading back to America. I was visiting family, and we agreed to meet up … and … and travel home. That … that is what I was doing there" I finish, somewhat lamely.

But a question bubbles in my mind, and bursts forwards from my lips before I can stop the words. "Would you be so kind as to return my clothes? I'm sure you'll want this jumpsuit for any other people who arrive here without trial." I glance up at him, fire burning in my eyes and threatening to jump free from my fist.

"You may change in the next room over. But make no mistake, everyone else here has broken the law. They deserve every punishment they get. Remember that the law is the law, and not mere guidelines for your behaviour, Miss Talbot. If you'll excuse me, I have to speak with someone who knows a little more about this than you do." With those curt words, he dismisses me, gesturing to the guards to lead me to an area where I can change.

My clothes are delivered to my waiting arms, and I duck into a cubicle to dress myself in something looking much better than these horrid blue jumpsuits. I dress quickly, ducking on my clothes, breathing in the familiar scent of raspberry body spray. The jumpsuit is discarded to one corner. Rebellion ignites within me, and I blast the suit with a small dose of flames. An acrid smell wafts through the air. There. Let them wonder how that happened.

I stride from the room, catching the tail end of Ross and Tony's conversation.

"– you can call me anytime. I'll put you on hold, I like to watch the line blink." Tony makes to shut the helicopter door, and motions me forwards. I jog towards, casting a glare back at Ross. "I'll take Miss Talbot back to her address. Save you the trouble." There's a smirk ghosting over Tony's face, and he swings the door closed.

The helicopter starts up, propelling us up into the sky. The Raft falls from view, dropping back below the ocean looking every bit like a super-villain base from a _James Bond_ movie. I think Ross could well play the villain. It's a shame though, that there's no clever spy coming to save the imprisoned Avengers (and Scott) and whisk them away to a lovely resort, while they spend the bad guy's money. Happy endings are for fairy tales, not real life.

"Right then, kid. You're going to have to hold on tight to the suit, and try not to fall off," mumbles Tony as he fiddles with some buttons.

"Sure thing – wait!" I throw my hands up, staring at him. "What?! How am I supposed to do that?! My voice rises, and my eyes widen.

"I don't know. Use your air-stuff. Figure it out. Do I have to think up a solution for everyone?"

"Fine. I'll do it. You'd better not drop me."

With that, Tony slides out the back of the 'copter. I drop out of the hole, bending the air to propel myself far enough to grab hold of the suit. I position myself upright on the back, using tendrils of air to keep my grip. This is going to be a long, cold journey.

"Hey kid, you got an earpiece, right?"

"Yeah … "

"Great. F.R.I.D.A.Y can hook you up, and I can talk to you a little easier. Tell me about what we'll find in Siberia."

I roll my eyes, more focused on maintaining my body temperature with an air-bending technique. "Alright. What do you want to know?"

* * *

 **This chapter ended up being much longer than I expected it to be. Weird. These characters took over and lead me in a completely different way to how I expected this chapter to go. I had all sorts of plans for Ava to break out, but then this happened. Funny that.**

 **Hope you've enjoyed this chapter.**

 **We've only got a couple more chapters to go.**

 **I own only my OCs.**

 **A massive shout out to all you readers. The last update prompted the most views in a single day yet - over 300. We're now well over 5,000 total views, and over 30 followers and over 30 favourites as well. Thank you, for making this possible. You guys are the superheroes.**


	20. Siberia

**Siberia**

* * *

As soon as we reach the base I fall straight off the suit, landing on the concrete two feet below. My arms and legs feel like jelly, and every part of me is seized up. This is going to take some serious conviction to get me back on my feet. I never ever want to do that again. Not ever. It was awful. The wind was bitterly cold, and the metal of the suit even more so. Only my air-bending breathing technique (I am so glad I learnt that) kept my body temperature anywhere even near normal. Still, I'm feeling more like an Ava-cicle than a human at the moment. Chattering teeth and blue lips aside, at least I made it in one place.

If I had fallen off … let's just be glad it didn't happen.

With this weather, especially all the snow, I'm so glad for my leather boots. They're keeping my toes toasty and warm (kind of), and making it a lot easier to make my way through the drifts of blinding white snow. Aware of the empty pouches on my sides, I scoop up a few handfuls of snow, bending it into water, and storing some in each pouch. You never know when you need a little water to bend … or heal with – I'm hoping it doesn't come to that.

Tony has already headed inside, and I scramble to keep up with him. That suit must have heaters, or maybe it's excess heat from the working machinery. Either way, he's probably a lot warmer than I am. Still, I can create and manipulate fire, so it's not like I can't warm myself up. I just can't summon the energy to even have a small flame at the moment. I really need to sit down.

"Um … "I begin talking, hesitant and unsure, "Tony, can I talk with you a minute … before we go any further?"

He turns around to face, no emotion showing through the metal face plate. "About what? We haven't got long kid, can we walk and talk?"

"Not a kid," I mumble under my breath before continuing, "We can do that. I just want to talk about weapons … and philosophy, I guess. When … "I take a deep breath, readying myself to continue, "when someone shots someone with a gun and kills them, you don't blame the weapon – you blame the user. If a person was a weapon, a tool for an organisation, you wouldn't blame them for what they did. Especially if they were mind-controlled … hypothetically speaking.

"Clint was brainwashed and nobody blamed him for his actions. Bu- Barnes was brainwashed for seventy years and tortured and … made into a weapon. A tool for HYDRA. Do you still blame the weapon for its actions if it's a person? I wouldn't. Barnes is the same as Clint … even Natasha was kinda brainwashed as a child. They don't get blamed for that.

"But there's more to it than that. I mean, what if someone keeps something secret from you? And you find out, and they say it was for your protection. You'd be angry, upset, and maybe feel betrayed. That's understandable. But they always have reasons, and it's for what they think is your best interests. Sometimes, afterwards, you see that they were right about it, or they see that they were wrong, and you apologise. They care about you, and that's why they do it. It's fine to be angry, but you shouldn't do anything rash. You need to go your own ways and calm down. Before anything terrible happens that you might regret later.

"He cares about you, Tony. Just remember that people make mistakes, and sometimes forget things. And … and people aren't always controlling themselves. You shouldn't blame the tool for doing its job. A gun isn't evil or good. It's the wielder that decides that. Not the tool." I finish my speech, staring up at Tony with sorrowful eyes. That's the best I can do without saying 'Bucky killed your parents, and Steve knew'. It's the only way I can put it. Maybe it'll do some good, maybe it won't. Rational thinking tends to go out the window, after all, when emotions are involved. Love is blind. But so is anger.

"That was … deep." Tony glances at me over his shoulder. "You sound way too wise for a teenager."

"I'm not a teenager … "I huff, glaring at him, "I'm twenty. I guess wisdom turns up when you're from an alternate universe where this has already all happened. Just maybe."

"Don't get snarky with me. That's my job." There's a rather long pause before Tony speaks up again. "There's some information for now hidden in that philosophy mumbo-jumbo, isn't there? Secrets … choices … mind-control. Why not just say it straight up?"

"Because … "I rack my brain for reasons, and the words to express them, "because it would mess things up. Y'know … everything is already a mess and … and meddling could make it worse. It needs to be better, not worse. So, I just use small, uh, blobs of information to … to move thing along. Besides, my being here has already changed it. What's to say, that things won't happen in the way I know, just because events have changed because there's a spare part in the fighting. Maybe I don't know how it's gonna turn out. Maybe everyone won't act like cunts and dickheads and we'll all be fine." I shrug my shoulders, continuing onwards into the base proper.

"Like cunts and dickheads, huh? Oh, the eloquence in your language."

"Fuck off you condescending twat," I waggle my finger at him, a grin forming over my face, "I bet you have a worse mouth than mine."

"Maybe I do. Or maybe I'm an adult, and manage not to swear so much as you kids."

"Just because the movies are rated like 12, doesn't mean your real life is the same."

"I'm wouldn't tell you if it was."

"Ha! I knew it!"

"This conversation is over," Tony calls out, marching onwards, leaving me leaning against a concrete pole.

"Diva." I mumble, jogging after him.

As I get around the corner, I spot Tony facing off with Steve and Bucky, with the latter pair on the stairs. The pair of them don't seem surprised to see Tony, but mildly surprised at my appearance _with_ Tony. I fought with them, and now I'm here with the person leading the team they fought against. But they're here to make up, so it should be fine. I'll just pretend to be part of the wall or something.

"You seem more defensive," Tony states dryly.

"It's been a long day." There's exhaustion pulsing out from Steve's words. Not just physical exhaustion; but mental tiredness too. He's tired of the way things are working out. The pair of them, Tony and Steve, do want to make up. I truly believe that at his point. It's just that the world is cruel, and won't allow it – not at this moment.

"At ease, soldier. I'm not currently after you." He takes a few steps forwards.

"Then why are you here?" There's still some of that kind of defensive tone to his speech. Defensive, like the way his weapon is shield.

"Maybe … your story is not so crazy."

"Maybe," agrees Steve.

"Ross has no idea I'm here, I like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I got to arrest myself." Hints of humour run through his voice.

"Well, that sounds like a lot of paper work." There's a heavy pause before, "It's good to see you, Tony." Steve visibly relaxes, lowering the shield. Bucky keeps the gun up, ready.

"Me too, Cap. Manchurian candidate, you're killing me. There's a truce here, you can drop it." Tony gestures to Bucky and his gun; after a moment's pause, Bucky lowers it.

With that, we begin to move through the base. There's only a few dim lights to see by, and darkness everywhere else. I hold a small flame in my palm. It provides just enough light to vaguely brighten the space, but flickers in the Siberian wind.

"I got heat signatures," Tony calls out, striding forwards in his suit.

"How many?"

"Uh, one."

"If it's any comfort, they died in their sleep. Did you really think I wanted more of you?" Helmut Zemo's voice echoes through the room. Dead super soldiers slump in cryo-chambers. Killed by Zemo, I assume. It's ghastly. Those people – though trained, deadly assassins – were still people. If there's a chance for Bucky to break his conditioning, then there was a chance for these guys too. Zemo is sick.

"What the hell," Bucky murmurs, quiet and uncertain.

"I'm grateful to them though, they brought you here." Zemo appears, as though a section of wall has opened up. Steve cocks his arm back, chucking the shield at Zemo. "Please, Captain." He sounds almost amused. "The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of a few hundred rockets."

"I'm betting I can beat that." Tony steps closer, hints of arrogance in his voice.

"Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time," Zemo agrees. "But then you'll never know why you came."

I step forwards, heart pounding. "Um … yeah … I know, so I can do all the explaining later. Let's just wait for T'Challa to turn up, and we can just not listen to anything he says. Not important stuff, that's all he says. We don't need to know. We can, er, just go and …" I trail off; the others are more focused on Zemo, not the ramblings of someone who shouldn't even be here.

"You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?" Steve sounds incredulous, that someone would risk the lives of the innocent just to entice people for his twisted games.

"I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you, I followed you. But now that you are standing here, I just realized … There's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice, to find a flaw."

Zemo is definitely sounding a little bit stalker-y right now. Like, worse than super fans of the Avengers, or anyone for that matter. Crazy. But driven by his loss, anger, and heartbroken-ness. He wants revenge, but he sees it as avenging his family and his country. Not a crime. But a justice.

"You're Sokovian. Is that what this is about?"

"Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I'm here because I made a promise."

A promise to the dead.

"You've lost someone."

"I've lost everyone. And so will you. An empire topple by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumples from within … that's dead forever." There's a sinister touch to his voice as Zemo reveals his plan for the Avengers. Is this how he sees them? An empire, waiting to fall under the hands of a puppet master.

A video starts playing on a small screen – CCTV footage of the night Tony's parents died. My pulse is racing now. I can't do it … I can't stop this. It's happening, right now. He'll find out, and it'll be all the worse. They'll fall apart, shattered parts of a once unbreakable mountain. And they'll crumple from within, cracked by the weight of their choices, secrets, and lies.

"I know that road," Tony starts, eyes on the screen. "What is this?"

I begin moving, involuntary, before I even register what I'm doing, and cover the screen with my body, looking up at Tony with pleading eyes. "Please. You don't need to see this. Let's leave this place. Please. It's not – not anywhere you want to stay … it'll end badly … trust me, I know … please." My voice quivers and shakes, fear running through it.

The ground responds to my emotions, shaking and trembling like my hands resting at my sides. Noise echoes through the building, and snow shakes off the sides of the mountain. The whole room quivers.

Tony shakes his head. "I have to see. I need to know." With that, he pushes me aside, and refocuses on the screen.

I have to take several deep breaths, before I'm calm enough to stop the shaking. The video plays on. I watch, with widened eyes as Bucky – no, the Winter Soldier – kills first Howard, and then, his wife, Maria. I'm sure tears spark in Tony's eyes. This changes everything about how he thought his parents died. It wasn't a drunken crash of Howard's – it was a planned murder, orchestrated by HYDRA.

"Tony. Tony, "Steve starts forwards, concerning flickering in his cerulean eyes.

"Did you know?" Tony spins round to face Steve, anguish, pain, and hurt written all over his face. "And you – "He half turns to look me in the eyes, "you knew. That speech about not blaming the weapon, and brainwashing, and HYDRA – that wasn't just a general warning, was it? It was about this."

I nod, looking down. "I … It wasn't my secret to tell. I'm not even supposed to be here, I just … I just wanted you to have some warning and – "Warm tears roll down my cheeks. "I wish you didn't have to find out like this. I wish it had never happened at all. But it's not James Barnes' fault – it wasn't him actively choosing. HYDRA was the real killer; Barnes was just the weapon, as the Winter Soldier. Please, just walk away. It doesn't need to – "I choke up, gasping and sniffling quietly, "to end in fighting. You can end this with peace. You don't need to fight."

He just looks at me, a hard light reflecting in his eyes. "At least you tried." Tony refocuses on Steve, and repeats his question. "Did you know?"

"I didn't know it was him."

"Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?"

"Yes."

The single word is heavy, so, so heavy, and weighing much more than anything that exists in our universe. It's just three letters, but it says as much as all the stories in the world. _Yes_. One of the smallest words, but so heavy, and powerful, and potent.

It's enough to ignite fury in Tony's eyes; a boiling rage that seethes through him, burning up and up until he has to blow.

I position myself in between them, head turning to gaze as each of them in turn. This chemical mixture is about to explode, and its explosion will burn us all.

* * *

Steve pushes Bucky behind him, lifting his shield somewhat tentatively in front of the pair of them. Tony flips his face mask down.

"It wasn't him, Tony. Hydra had controlled of his mind!" Steve steps forwards, voice calm and reasonable.

When he replies, Tony's voice is just as calm and controlled, but also cold. Cold is bad for the energetic, if somewhat egotistical billionaire. Cold means a lack of emotion, and right now, that is very dangerous. "Move! I won't ask twice."

Tony moves closer, raising his left arm, and lighting up a repulser. Steve lifts the shield, and pushes Bucky further behind him. Without so much as a second's hesitation, Tony fires. The beam bounces off the vibranium, scorching the wall black. I push at the air, palms towards Tony, summoning a current to knock him backwards. But the heavy Iron Man suit is harder to move than any normal person, and he only moves a few feet backwards.

Regaining his feet, Tony fires again, launching forwards with his boot repulsers. Steve moves in defence, raising the shield and blocking Tony's blows. Bucky moves forwards, engaging in the fight. I stumble to the wall, digging my fingers into the rock, attempting to ground myself. They can't keep fighting; I don't want it to end this way.

"Stop!" My desperate cry sounds frail against the clanging sounds of the fight, and I have to duck to avoid a stray repulser blast, "Please! Just don't … don't do this! It's ok to be upset, but you don't have to fight!"

The others barely respond. Steve and Bucky glance at me with furrowed brows, possibly wondering why I'm here with Tony and so desperately trying to stop them. But Tony doesn't even do that; he merely straightens his posture, and carries on.

"He's not going to stop." Steve mutters to Bucky, who nods in agreement. "Go." But Bucky stays where he is, resolute and unmoving. His best friend went up against the 117 countries that signed the Accords: Bucky isn't about to abandon him now. 'Till the end of the line, indeed.

Taking a deep breath, I reach my hands out, seizing control of the metal suit and dragging it backwards, backwards, backwards, away from the pair of Brooklyn boys. Tony lifts the face plate, scowling at me.

"Let me go, kid. This isn't your fight, no matter how much you claim to know about our futures."

"It is." I say, fiercely. "It is my fight. I'm part of this world now; I care about what happens to those idiots that protect it. Something bigger is coming, and you won't defeat him if you can't stay together as a team. Let Steve and Bucky go. I know it's painful, I know it hurts, and that you don't know if you can trust him again, but you have to stop this. Otherwise, you end up lying in the cold with a broken suit. Bucky has his metal arm blown off. And Steve – "I glance at the other two men, looking them in the eyes, "he loses one friend to mistakes, and another to cryo-freeze. You don't need to do this."

Tony snarls, a wild and feral sound, born of rage, anger, and hurt. "Pretty words can't solve every fight, kid. Time you learnt that."

"No." I agree. "They can't. But maybe this can."

Reaching deep inside for the energy I need, I relax my hold on Tony's suit, and pull up rocky walls, separating the opposing sides. The ground shoots upwards, craggy chunks of concrete forming the bulk of the walls. They reach within three feet of the ceiling, and I have to raise my own podium to see other them. On both sides, the men are breathing hard, bodies still tense, but with lowered weapons.

"Look, "I hop onto the wall nearest Tony, seating myself on the top, "I know that it's a shock. It's horrifying to discover and even worse – "My words stick in my throat, requiring real effort to force them out, "– to discover that someone you trust knew, and didn't tell you. You're completely justified in your reaction. But this isn't solving anything. You have to – "

Tony cuts me off, waving a hand dismissively. "– I have to stop listening to you. You know nothing of this. Just run along, and keep your pathetic little pep talks to yourself. I don't have time for this. He killed my mom! With his bare hands! Don't you get that?!"

Tears smart at my eyes, and I raise one hand to swipe them away. "I do. I really do!" My voice quivers and shakes; the room responds, and begins to rattle, sending cracks into my walls. "Please … please just … I care about you idiots! I don't want you hurt or – " _Killed_. The word just refuses to come out, and I clasp both hands over my mouth. I can't do this. I'm not strong enough to keep these idiots from battling it out and nearly killing each other. I can't do it. I'm not a superhero – this is completely above me.

I retreat from my perch, pressing my back against the wall. The coldness helps to ground me, jerking me from my near panic attack. My pulse is racing, hands shaking, and breath increasing. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I rock backwards and forth, counting my breaths and trying to slow them down. It takes a few minutes until I'm calm enough to look back up again.

And what I see surprises me. Tony is clambering over the second wall, separating myself from Steve and Bucky. The latter give a shout of surprise, and there's a dull clang as Tony's armoured fists hit the vibranium disc. Wiping tears from my cheeks (which are totally not mine, don't be silly), I push up to my feet. Taking a stance, I pull the walls back down, save for a few chunks, which I form into earthen discs. They're useful as a weapon, ok?

Tony is continuing his assault on Bucky and Steve. Eventually, Steve manages to push Tony backwards, away from Bucky. Both of the super soldiers are breathing hard, chests heaving with the effort. I scramble to position in between them, ready to separate them again. Although, I've not been doing a very good job of that at the moment. Not at all.

"Do you even remember them?" Tony's voice rings out in the still air, heavy and charged with emotion.

"I remember all of them." Bucky's reply is so heart breaking. I can't even … I can't even begin to comprehend how it must feel: to have been brainwashed, tortured, and forced to kill people who may well have been innocent. To kill friends, as I'm sure Howard and Bucky were. The way Bucky wanted to go to that Stark Expo – I don't think he couldn't have been anything but intrigued by the wonders of science. But then he was pulled apart, and stitched back together as a puppet, then forced to kill someone he undoubtedly admired.

Bucky's story is nothing but tragic.

"This isn't going to change what happened, "Steve interjects, glancing between them.

"I don't care. He killed my mom." Tony shakes his head, resolute.

I frown, staring at Tony. "Did nothing I say earlier sink in? When someone gets killed by a person with a gun, you don't blame the gun; you blame the wielder. The Winter Soldier was the weapon, and HYDRA was the user. It wasn't Bucky's fault. It was HYDRA." My voice catches, and my tone turns desperate. He needs to know this. I don't want the team to be torn apart any more than it is already. I don't want them to get hurt. None of them deserve this.

"He killed my mom." Tony repeats, striding forwards.

I glance between them, all of them acting like children, unable to work together because they can't talk with each other. Tony shouldn't have sprung the Accords of the team; Steve shouldn't have kept the secret from Tony. They are equally to blame, but equally right in their opinions. The Avengers need oversight, but not under the man who keeps trying to hunt down the Hulk.

Tony fires off a repulser blast, Steve deflects it off the shield, and it singes it the wall, blasting only a few inches from my face. A wave of heat washes over me, and something snaps inside. I raise one head, sending a blast of fire through the room. It smashes it the opposite wall with a boom! The fighters freeze, limbs dangling in the air as they glance around, staring first at the burnt wall and then at my smoking fists. Bucky's eyes grow slightly wider.

"Enough!" I shout, flashing glares at all of them. "Just stop! I can't take any more of you motherfuckers fighting each over something that happened a long time ago. It's sad, and awful, and terrible – I know that. But it's happened, and we can't go back and change the past; we can only move forwards." My voice cracks, my eyes start to flash pale blue. I pause, clasping a hand over my mouth, and fighting to keep control. A jolt of energy has me leering forwards, gasping for breath.

As I slump against the wall, I can hear Bucky mumble something to Steve, "what the hell is happening to her eyes?"

"Long story." Steve mutters out of the side of his mouth, glancing at me in concern.

I pitch forwards, bracing myself on the ground on all fours, chest heaving and shaking. The world darkens, and I black out briefly, falling face first into the ground. But the knock to my head seems to have done some good – cognitive recalibration as Nat would say. My eyes stop flashing, and though shaky, I can regain my feet again.

"I don't care about when it happened!" Tony shouts, voice cracking with emotion. "My mom was killed, and I just found out that it wasn't Howard and his drunken stupidness. Do you have any idea how that feels? DO you?"

I back away, shaking my head. Tony straightens up in his suit … and blasts straight at Bucky. He raises his metal arm to deflect the blow, but the proximity blasts his arm off, leaving only a tiny stump at the shoulder. Bucky collapses backwards, and I rush to his side as quick as I can on wobbly legs. Steve steps up to cover us, pain flashing in his eyes.

"Please … He's my friend." Steve's voice sounds strained, and he falls back under the fury of Tony's assault.

"So was I." There's nothing but sadness, regret, and betrayal in that heartbreakingly hollow voice of his. "Stay down. Final warning."

"I can do this all day." His voice quivers slightly as Steve looks upwards, ready to take the blows of Tony's anger to protect one of his best friends, and the last connection to the world that knew Steve before it knew Captain America.

Tony takes aim, ready to fire. But Bucky stretches his good arm, pulling at Tony's ankle. It's enough to distraction for Steve to move to a better position. Personally though, Bucky's attempt to keep helping the punk he loves is the worst thing about this. From what I've seen of the metal arm, it seems to have a similar nervous system (if synthetic) with regards to touch. Having his arm blasted must feel like agony, but he's still got enough resolve left in him to try and protect Steve.

Bucky is and will always be a hero to me. No matter what anyone else tries to tell me. He is a hero.

By the time I've refocused on the fight, Tony is flat on his back, Steve straddling the suit. The latter has the shield raised, about to smash into Tony's arc reactor. It'll disable the suit but – oh god, it'd leave him to freeze. I have to … I've got to stop this.

I scramble forwards, tripping over my own feet. Drawing on whatever energy I can find, I push a blast of air at Steve knocking him off Tony. I then seize control of the metal suit, pulling it nearer to me. Tony blinks up at me, face covered in bruises and scratches. Both Steve and Bucky are similar banged up. But they can heal from the physical wounds, it's the mental ones that really need working on.

"Go … just go." I croak out, gesturing towards the exit. "I think … I think t-that … "I cough, a hacking noise that doesn't sound good, "T'Challa should be here. You can … can go to Wa – Wakanda. Go." Waving them away, I focus on Tony and the suit. It doesn't look good.

After a few moments, the sounds of shuffling footsteps echo in the virtually empty chamber as Steve and Bucky clamber back to the stolen Quinjet. They'll be safe in Wakanda, as least until Thanos turns up and – no. I've got to stop thinking about that. I already know too much, and I really don't what to find out more. If I'm to be stuck in this universe, I want to take things as they come, like I would in my old world. This is my home now, no matter how messed up it is.

Just before the pair leave, Tony manages to croak a few words: "That shield does not belong to you. You don't deserve it! My father made that shield!"

There's a dull clang as Steve drops the shield. He glances back to me with a small nod, trusting me to make sure Tony makes it out of here alive. I gulp nervously, but nod back, mouthing the words 'I promise' to him. I can do that – look after Tony, that is. Just until T'Challa can get here and fly us home in his jet. There isn't really any other way for us to get back. Tony came in the suit, and I was sat on that suit however uncomfortably. T'Challa is literally our _only_ option for getting back safely.

 _Never would have thought I'd say that_ , I muse to myself, _that I'd be stuck in Siberia with only a King from Wakanda as my chance for getting home safely._ Weird or what?

But more than that, I'd never have thought that I'd be involved in so many choices, secrets, and lies. It's a big change from my simple little lifestyle in the training facility, helping train young benders to become masters. Now I'm helping superheroes in their battles, and trying to keep them from killing each other.

Go figure.

But Tony needs my help, so I can't afford to keep being preoccupied by my thoughts. Bending the suit from him, I left the chunks of metal clatter to the ground and start to assess his injuries. I've only figured out basic helping, but I should be able to ease pain on the more serious things, and heal with smaller cuts and lacerations. Pulling water from the pouch at my side, I layer it over Tony's forehead. He starts at the touch, but starts to relax as the water glows blue with helping magic.

"What … "Tony coughs, trying to get out his words, "whatever you're doing, it's awesome. Thanks."

"Healing magic, Tony. I can't really do much but," I shrug, carefully to keep my hands in the water, "I can try and take the edge off." Reaching a certain part of his head, I frown. "Looks like you've got a concussion, not to mention whatever else you've got everywhere else."

"I've had worse. Could you … could you do the rest of me? Please?"

"You know I'd have to get the water on your skin." I say, pointedly. "Are you asking me to undress you without having been on a date first, Mr Stark?" I quip, earning a weak laugh from Tony.

"You're too young for me, kid. I've got limits. Just … "He licks his lips, fear seeming to bubble up in his eyes, "please get rid of the pain."

"I'll do what I can. I'm not sure how much that is, but it'll be something. Tell me if it makes it worse." All serious now.

Bending the water back into my pouch, I begin to remove Tony's shirt, trying to ignore the large circular scar in his chest, marking where the arc reactor used to be. I pull the water back out, moving it over his arms and torso, keeping my face blank and impassive. In truth though, it feels like Tony has cracked a few ribs, in not broken them. There's a few swollen areas and small cuts that go down nicely. I can feel Tony's body relaxing as the pain lessens as my hands work on his many injuries. Eventually, I help him back into his shirt, and work on his legs. There's fewer injuries, and it doesn't take nearly as long.

Once finished, I sit back, energy and water supplies drained. My vision is darkening, and I'm worried I'll pass out from exhaustion. But I can't. If I do that, I won't be able to make the fire needed to keep us warm. I'm strong enough to last. I have to be.

With a huge amount of effort, I push myself upright, so I'm leaning against the wall, next to Tony. Concentrating on my palms, I focus a small flame in my hands, holding it between us. Tony leans into the warmth gratefully, and I move in to. It's not much, but it should keep us from freezing to death. Well, not that I expect we'll be here for more than a couple of hours at the most, but it's best to be prepared and think ahead, if you can. Foresight isn't always possible, and hindsight is 20/20.

In the end, it takes only an hour for T'Challa to find us. He helps the pair of us, helping Tony to stand. As they struggle out to the jet, Tony bends down to pick up the shield, informing the King that it's a 'souvenir'. At that, I hunt for the metal arm, covering it in my jacket to pick it up. The men look at me questioningly, but I just shrug. It might be useful, and maybe Wakanda can study it to make a replacement arm for one Bucky Barnes.

Hopefully this will be the worst, and everything else will improve from here on out. Hopefully.

I have a feeling that we'll need a little hope with where this timeline is heading.

* * *

 **So, um, hi again. I do apologise about the month-lateness of this chapter, but real life kinda got in the way. Between a week long holiday without internet, visits from family, summer homework, and starting college (6th form college) two weeks ago, I didn't exactly have time to write anything up that was good enough to post.**

 **But, I got here at least. This chapter is the longest yet, at over 5,500 words, so it should be worth the wait What with Ava being part of the incident in Siberia, the fighting is slightly changed up, but I kept as many things the same as possible. So this means Bucky still loses his arm, but Tony doesn't get his suit crushed. It's a little AU but hopefully relatively similar.**

 **All movie text is from an online transcript of the scene.**

 **I hope you liked the chapter, and that none of the characters seem too OOC.**

 **Once again, I only own my OCs, everything else belongs to Marvel.**

 **This is my welcome back to this humble little story. Thank you to anyone who has read it from the very beginning, and anyone who has started reading it since it began to have more chapters. You are all wonderful people, and make it worth posting my attempt at fanfic. Thank you.**


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